


Autumn Moonbeams

by Stormkpr



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Canon Gay Couple, Canon-Typical Behavior, Historical Fantasy AU, Love, M/M, MM sex, Romance, and also dildos yes dildos, there will be manual and oral and anal the usual variety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:48:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28810650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormkpr/pseuds/Stormkpr
Summary: In this historical fantasy, Nasir is a slave for an old man, living on a remote farm. Two German brothers own the nearest farm - they visit at times to help the old man, and they are usually Nasir’s only company. Now that Nasir’s master is soon to pass to the afterlife, his heirs have come to town and plan to sell Nasir to the mines. Nasir has had very pleasant interactions with the German brothers before, especially the elder one, Agron. Will Agron and Duro intervene to save Nasir from the mines?Canthey?
Relationships: Agron/Nasir, Barca/Pietros
Comments: 83
Kudos: 51
Collections: Spartacus ▶ Barca / Pietros





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> T/Ws – In line with what you see on the show. Because slavery is involved in this fic, you can expect that you will see references to activity that has to be termed dub-con. Other potential T/Ws are coarse language, sexual activity, and sex sometimes being referred to in a coarse manner. (You know, the F word gets used).
> 
> Also, I’ve written two fics in a row where Nasir is Agron’s slave. I realize that not everyone likes this theme, so of course if it’s not your flavor of wine then please hit the back button. In reality, I fully see the men as equals and am glad that canon makes it clear that they are as such. I always try to keep shades of the boldness, bravery, and feistiness that we see from Nasir in canon! (And someday I promise I will write a fic where he is not Agron’s slave).
> 
> Title is from the Walt Whitman poem “When I Heard at the Close of Day”

As the elder son, Agron is in charge. Now that both parents have died, everything is solely the property of Agron: the wheat fields, the beef cattle, and even the small vegetable patch. The two-bedroom, one-bathroom loft which serves as living quarters and sits perched above the stable belongs solely to Agron as well. So do the horses and wagon. Custom and law of the land both decree that inheritance passes to eldest son alone.

If he did not wish to accept his brother’s rule and live under his roof, younger brother Duro could leave to join the army or a monastery or make his way to the docks for a chance to join a ship’s crew. But he will do none of those things as he has no desire for combat or for celibacy or the seas – and he knows full well that no master elsewhere will be as caring as Agron. So he resides with his brother. Agron now occupies the bedroom that used to belong to their parents, and Duro remains with the bedroom of his childhood. No matter. Having one’s own room is a blessing now.

Not that either brother has much time for sleep. The farm requires more work than two young, strong men can master. The economy of the entire land is depressed, no one seems to have much coin, and neither their wheat nor their cattle bring in the prices they used to although supplies have not decreased in cost.

“Old Marcus did not appear long for this world last we saw him. Perhaps we could buy his slave,” Duro says to Agron as the two brothers eat their porridge one morning.

“What makes you think we could afford to buy Nasir?” Agron asks. He forces another bite of the bland porridge down. With their mother gone, her former duties of cooking and cleaning are further burdens weighing on the brothers. Food is a necessity, and Agron will not abide a dirty house or filthy clothing. He never realized all the work performed by his mother until she followed their father in death.

“Our parents had slaves.”

“Back when this family had more coin.” Agron takes a breath. “You know how lean our purse is.”

“It will be leaner if half the harvest goes to waste,” Duro replies, waving his spoon.

“Nasir is young and strong. He would command a hefty price. One we can ill afford.”

Marcus, the owner of Nasir, is the brothers’ closest neighbor, although his farm is still a two-hour journey by horse - or half a day on foot.

“Perhaps if we can get caught up today and if the weather holds, we visit tomorrow,” Agron continues. “We can see how fares Marcus – and Nasir.”

“Let’s do that,” Duro agrees. He has a twinkle in his eye. “I believe we both like Nasir.”

“We do,” Agron says with faint blush upon his cheeks. “No need to be coy, Duro. We both like him.” His excitement stirs at the prospect of a visit to Nasir.

***

For Nasir, the worst part is loneliness. He knows he surely has it better than any other slave in the land. His dominus, Marcus, rarely hits him or even raises his voice, and if Marcus had ever touched a slave in a sexual manner, Nasir has never heard of it. But their farm is so remote and visitors a rarity, and the loneliness hard to bear. When Nasir was a child, a handful of other slaves lived here, but he is the only one now. His own mother has died and his brother was sold off long ago.

Nasir sleeps upon a mat in the hallway outside his dominus’ room. He rises early and lights the fires. He cooks and cleans and tends to Marcus, bathing him, reading to him, and sometimes trimming his hair and nails.

There used to be more life inside the household. But during the course of the past five years, Marcus’ only son died, both of his daughters married and – of course – left to join their husbands’ households, Marcus’ health declined, and Marcus more or less decided to abandon the farm other than his beloved apiary. Keeping bees seems to be Marcus’ only interest nowadays. Nasir has gently inquired as to the solvency of the farm, but his Dominus usually answers with a variation of “we have money for now, stop asking!”

Once per week, Nasir sees Marcus’ elder daughter Drusilla and her husband Otto. They make the long journey and bring provisions, they sit and have a drink with Marcus, and they leave soon afterwards. If Nasir is lucky, they might exchange two sentences with him even though he’s but a lowly slave.

Marcus’ younger daughter lives too far away, her husband a man of rank within the army.

A typical week brings Nasir interaction with no one else. No one. Dominus sleeps more and more. Nasir tries out strategies to keep his mind occupied. He might whistle to himself. He might recall a story that Otto told to Marcus during their last visit and replay snippets of conversation overheard. He thinks about how he would have contributed to the conversation had anyone sought words with him. He might wake during the night and put his arms around himself. He might cry a bit.

Mostly he thinks about the German brothers.

Agron and Duro run the nearest farm, and Nasir counts the weeks since they were last here. He imagines when they might return. When it has been five or six weeks since their last visit, he gets excited, knowing that another visit will happen soon. If the seven-week mark passes, another visit is imminent. Nasir will spend all day straining to hear the sounds of their horses; he will squint to see the white cloth that covers their wagon approaching in the distance.

The brothers visit every other month or so, trading something from their farm (vegetables or wheat or sometimes beef) for honey or honeyed wine. They inquire as to Marcus’ health but he always waves a hand saying that Drusilla and Otto will be by to check on him and not to make a fess. They take a look through the house, seeing what might need repairing, and then setting about to repair it.

And they kiss Nasir inside the stables.

It started a few years ago. One day Nasir was inspecting the horses’ hooves and suddenly Agron was there inside the stable with him. Nasir looked up at the large man. Agron’s green eyes seemed to smile at him. His face was kindly and handsome. And Nasir had always felt that Agron treated him with a degree of respect as if Nasir were an actual person and not just a slave. On that particular day Agron actually thanked him for how well he took care of the horses, and Nasir could not explain what happened next other than to say it was like a force of nature, as if he were swept away by a wave upon the ocean. Nasir himself stood on his tiptoes and reached for Agron, pressing his lips against the German’s. The audacity! As a mere slave, Nasir could have been beaten or whipped or worse for daring to touch a freeman. But Agron returned the kiss. He returned it with gusto.

Perhaps because both were young men, restraint was not shown on either end. They continued to kiss, hands roamed everywhere, arousal happened rapidly, and the two began to stroke each other until they reached satisfaction.

It continued on from there.

Duro visited the stables during their next visit; Nasir smiled to think that the brothers must have agreed upon this. Duro did not waste time. He gestured to a corner of the stable, asked “Can we do as you did with Agron?”, and smiled at Nasir’s very enthusiastic response. They kissed. Duro’s kisses were a bit more forceful than Agron’s had been, and he allowed little time to elapse before reaching into Nasir’s pants. “Oh,” Duro broke away to pant, “Agron says that I should ask again if you truly want this.”

“Yes,” Nasir had answered. “I want.”

And thus it had progressed as it had with Agron. Kisses, touches, hands stroking to completion. Nasir silently noted that the elder brother had seen him – Nasir – to completion first whereas Duro took his own pleasure first. Duro tugged on Nasir’s collar that first time, but for whatever reason, after that he avoided touching the leather collar again. Despite Duro’s rough hands, both brothers were good, both were kind, and Nasir enjoyed it both times. The warmth of the other man’s body, the touch of lips upon lips, the feeling of someone’s hands other than his own upon his cock. And the exciting feeling of touching another man like that. Of watching the other man’s face as he peaked.

So Nasir always looks forward to the visits from the German brothers. He continues to count the days since their last visit.

***

“So how goes the farm?”

Agron asks the question of Nasir as they lie facing each other atop a bed of straw. They are sated, and evidence of their enjoyment is upon some of the straw and their hands. As always, Agron was splendid, and so Nasir is loathe to turn the conversation to more serious matters. He would rather dwell on the feel of Agron’s lips upon his own or once more run fingertips over Agron’s shoulders and arms. He just wishes to bask in the memory of Agron’s hands upon his cock bringing him to release. Or the look upon Agron’s face when his own climax draws near, and how very pink the large man’s cheeks become. The press of their sweaty bodies against each other’s, and the dampness of Agron’s brow.

Because Nasir spends nearly every waking moment replaying the details of these visits, he wonders all the time if he should ask Agron if he wants more from him. Years ago Nasir had found a book full of drawings, a book buried under yellow papers inside Dominus’ study. The pictures had hinted at an enthralling world of possibility. One had shown a woman with a man’s cock inside her mouth. Nasir has wondered incessantly if he could do that for Agron. But Agron has never suggested it and Nasir has to admit that he has no idea what to say, or how he would even handle Agron’s massive size. There were other drawings inside that book as well, suggesting even more untold pleasures. Nasir’s eyes had grown wide at viewing the last few pages. Was such a thing really possible? He has always wondered whether Agron and Duro know of these other possibilities. And yet he’s always enjoyed their kisses and their hands immensely. Absent language to describe these other things, Nasir is yet content.

“In decline,” Nasir says, finally answering Agron’s question. “As is Dominus’ health. Oftentimes he is only out of bed for but a few hours each day, tending to the apiary. He still has me read to him before bedtime but he is unfailingly asleep within ten minutes. And he eats nothing but bread dipped in wine – your wheat being the finest, of course.”

They talk more. Nasir inquires about Agron’s farm, and they talk about falling wheat prices and the realm’s struggle with coin. Agron shares what he has heard about the possibility of war to the west. Nasir says that he thinks Marcus’ daughter Drusilla might be with child but he is uncertain on that point. Agron seems to gingerly ask Nasir if he’s had any word of his brother Farid. Nasir knows nothing new, unfortunately. He was sold years ago to the husband of Marcus’ younger daughter, but then sold once more a few years after that. They have only the name of the buyer and the name of a city far to the south. Nasir appreciates that Agron asks; he hasn’t seen Farid since they were children but the loss is still rough. Nasir is always touched by the look upon Agron’s face when they talk of Farid; once again Nasir sees that Agron views him as a human being and not just a thing. Marcus never once says anything to Nasir about his brother.

And then there are unmistakable footsteps; Duro enters the barn.

“Agron, you know it’s time for us to go. We don’t want to travel in the dark,” Duro calls. He then pokes his head around the corner and grins at the sight of Agron and Nasir atop their bed of straw.

“Mind your manners, brother,” Agron laughs. “It is not your turn with Nasir,” he adds, with a flourish, and all three men laugh.

“I can still have a look,” Duro smiles back before blowing a kiss at Nasir. He turns to Agron. “He is beautiful, is he not?”

“It is still not your turn,” Agron says, perhaps feigning irritation. “But yes, he is beautiful and yes, we do need to set upon the road now.”

“Next time we must find a way that we both can have a turn. Instead I spent the last two hours moving boxes in from the shed and inventorying the contents of the top shelves inside Marcus’ basement.”

“Apologies,” Nasir says to Duro. “I cannot reach them. Dominus has wanted it done for weeks, so I thank you.”

Duro waves an arm at Nasir’s words, and then turns his back so that Agron and Nasir can dress.

“I hope to see you again soon,” Nasir says, once most clothing is back on. He tries to leave it at that, instead of badgering them for details on when their next visit will be. He understands the work of farming. Today’s trip cost the brothers a fortune in terms of productivity.

He cannot hound them for a return even though he lives for their next visit.

Agron tilts Nasir’s chin up and looks into his eyes. “You know we shall return as soon as possible.” He bends down and kisses Nasir’s mouth.

Nasir does not want the kiss to end, even though it was clearly intended to be a brief one.

Duro gently elbows past his brother and places a kiss on Nasir’s mouth before patting his rear. And then it is time to ready the horses and wagon.

Nasir watches them depart, his heart breaking. It will be at least four weeks until he seems them again, and probably closer to eight given what Agron said about the state their farm is in. Eight weeks. It feels like an eternity. Nasir reminds himself to count his blessing. He has not been sold to the mines or abused as a sex slave. It has been over a year since Marcus had Otto beat Nasir. (Nasir cannot remember what the transgression was. When Otto and Drusilla had arrived for their weekly visit, Marcus gave voice to whatever Nasir had done wrong and told Otto to discipline him. Otto had approached it dispassionately and blandly, the same way he might sum up figures on his accounting ledger. The bruises faded and Nasir had reminded himself it all could have been much worse).

Nasir uses paper and charcoal given by Marcus to make drawings of the brothers, capturing the likenesses of their faces. He needs to work on ears but he thinks his work is not too bad. He wishes to show it to them someday.

***

“I wish we could purchase him,” Agron says. The horses trot at a steady pace as he holds the reins.

“He is at least well-cared for there. Marcus does not abuse him,” Duro observes. He winces as they hit a rough spot in the road.

“He is lonely,” Agron says. He also is unsure as to the veracity of Duro’s words. Nasir’s body was unblemished today but he believes he saw a few bruises last year though it was hard to say for sure in the dark.

“He is but a slave,” Duro insists. And then he laughs. “And what about me? I spend all my days working a farm under my brother’s orders. Haven’t been to the village or laid eyes upon a woman in three months. Haven’t any means to support a wife and might never be able to keep one. Unless I can find the time to build a cottage upon our lands – which won’t happen since I can barely find the time to eat or sleep!”

Agron gently elbows him. “Your life is not such a disaster, Duro. You’re a freeman with roof over head, ample food – and bottles of honeyed wine from Marcus too now,” he laughs. “And your taskmaster is far kinder than many others.”

“As he reminds me often!” Duro says, tilting his head in exasperation towards the heavens. “So often.”

The brothers are silent for a bit. Duro finally speaks again. “I wish we could buy him too. Another set of hands upon our fields might pay for his purchase price in a few year’s time.” He raises his eyebrows. “And our beds are cold in winter. It’s nice to have someone else pull on my cock instead of having to do it myself.”

Lost in thought, Agron ignores that last comment. “I wonder if we can sell some of our equipment. Or reach into our savings. Or Barca the butcher might lend us some coin,” Agron speculates.

“You trust him?”

“I do. When we were at the barn-raising three months ago, I exchanged words with Crixus and Naevia. They said that Barca lent them coin to expand their house, and was very reasonable with terms and interest. They said Spartacus also had a good experience with him.”

Barn-raisings are one social event that the brothers treat themselves to upon occasion. At this one there was music and ample food. It was a four-hour trek even with the horses and wagon, but the weather was warm and the brothers easily able to sleep outside, under the wagon, before returning home the next day. Duro had bragged about the pretty girl he had kissed but, as Duro reminded Agron just now, kissing was all he could do being absent coin to build a home for a wife – and absent time to pursue such a task anyway.

“I thought you hated Crixus,” Duro says flatly.

“I dislike the man but I have found that his words hold true,” Agron says, though he instinctively frowns at thoughts of Crixus.

“That may be a possibility then. We borrow coin from Barca and purchase Nasir.”

Barca and his own slave are due for a visit soon. It is what they do – they travel, exchanging their butchering work for a portion of the meat. Agron once heard Barca speaking to his father years ago, and it seems like the man also has some inherited wealth as well, though how much Agron has no idea. But Agron can tell that Barca is well off – even his slave Pietros is always dressed very well, both men wear arm cuffs or other expensive adornments, and their horses are grand. There is rumor that Barca is purchasing a tavern; Agron suspects that the butchering work might be mere hobby for Barca at this point.

The brothers reach their farm. They hitch the wagon and tend to their horses. Their dwelling sits above the stables. As they ascend the stairs, they enter the large, open room. Agron is proud of the place, and he ensures they keep it as tidy as their mother did. There is a kitchen, a long table, and a sitting area with a fireplace. A small storage room perched off of the kitchen serves as pantry. Near the sitting area is the washroom, and it boasts a large bathtub – it was their mother’s idea, and Agron understands her wisdom since his tired muscles often ache for a warm bath. The two bedrooms are at the end furthest from the entrance – they sit side by side and they open out into the main room. Duro’s room is smaller and often in disarray, which Agron dislikes – but he allows his brother to keep his own space messy as long as the rest of the loft is clean. The walls are thin though. Since the place is basically one large room with dividers separating bedrooms and bathroom, sounds travel easily.

***

Nearly two months slip by, the weather turns cold, and Marcus declines rapidly. Nasir remains by his bedside and is relieved when Drusilla and Otto arrive, saying that they will stay here until Marcus passes.

Nasir’s relief soon turns to abject fear.

“We don’t need him,” Drusilla says the words to Otto one evening. “We should sell him.”

From Nasir’s pallet on the floor outside of the bedroom, he can hear everything. Do Drusilla and Otto have such disregard for slaves that they don’t realize how easily overheard they are, or are they so fatigued from tending to Marcus that they don’t care?

“You are right,” Otto says. “We don’t need slaves for our own household – paying Diona to come in a few hours a week to help you works well enough. And with a baby on the way, we could use the funds from a sale; our coin is tight.”

“Everyone’s coin is tight. But you remember what Batiatus tells us?”

Nasir strains hard to hear the rest, his own life so casually discussed – and possibly discarded.

“Yes,” Otto answers. “The mines are the only buyers who pay well nowadays. They will even make the trip and take the slave off of your hands for you.”

“Simple then. Once father passes, we contact the mines to remove the slave.”

Nasir lies back upon his pallet, realizing that he has been holding his breath. He lets it out. The mines?? That is to be his future? Marcus might pass any day now. The mines are legendary for their brutality. There are tales of the large pits where they dump the expired bodies of slaves on a daily basis.

Nasir continues to lie silently. He listens. Soon Otto’s abrasive snoring can be heard. Nasir thinks about his options. He decides he has but one, and it is full of risk. It might result in him being whipped or worse.

_And yet I have nothing to lose, do I? Not one thing._

Moving silently as any well-trained slave can, Nasir rises. He slips on his one pair of shoes, worn as they are complete with holes near the toes. He opens the closet where Marcus’ coat is kept, hoping the door doesn’t creak. The autumn moonlight is bright this night, and Nasir knows he is fortunate for that. Perhaps it portends more good luck. He opens the front door and steps through.

He knows the way to the German brothers’ farm, and knows it is half a day’s walk. He and Marcus used to pass by it years ago when Marcus would still drive his wagon. Stung by the chilly air, his heart pounding, nervous at the sound of any twig he steps upon, Nasir sets out at a brisk pace. He has to get there, break words with Agron, and return here before sunrise when he will be discovered missing.

As the hours pass by and Nasir continues to alternate between a jog, a walk, and a run, many doubts eat at him. His absence from Marcus’ place could be discovered even if he does somehow return before sunrise. He could trip and fall and hurt his ankle. And worst still, Agron might be angry at being woken, might laugh at his face. Exchanging a few kisses and loving touches with someone does not mean they care for you. And it certainly does not mean that they want to or even can help you.

Nasir continues to move quickly. His fingers and toes are numb and a voice nags at him, telling him he made a wrong turn at the last fork in the road. He answers that voice, tells it to be quiet and reminds himself that Marcus always praised his memory. Another hour passes. _I should have passed the creek by now and the abandoned red barn. Maybe the barn collapsed. If only so many years hadn’t passed since I’ve made this trip!_

His heart pounding, Nasir rounds another bend and sees it. The corral where their livestock is kept, the expansive fields of wheat, and the stable with the loft above. He has reached Agron and Duro’s place.

***

“Hey Agron, wake up. We have a visitor!”

Agron wakes to Duro’s hands and voice. “W-what?” Agron asks, rubbing his eyes. He focuses. Duro is at his bedside, and standing in the doorway to his bedroom is Nasir, visible because of the moonbeams streaming in from the window.

“Nasir?” Agron asks.

“He walked a long way,” Duro states plainly. “And apparently my hearing is far better than yours, since you slept right through his pounding upon the door.”

Agron sits up and takes in Duro’s words. Nasir would not have arrived unless a dire circumstance presented itself.

A few minutes later, Nasir and Agron are seated before the fireplace in the common room. A tired and cranky Duro has returned to his own bedroom and sleep.

“A thousand apologies for waking you,” Nasir stammers. He looks as if he wants to bolt out of his seat, and Agron realizes how odd it must feel for a slave to sit on a chair opposite a freeman.

“Say nothing of it. Are you certain you don’t want tea or hot water? You must be thirsty after such a trip.”

“You truly are the kindest person I have ever met,” Nasir replies. He rubs his hands together. “Thank you for letting me in and seeing me.”

“What is the matter?” Agron asks. “Has Marcus passed?”

“No, but he will soon.” Nasir swallows and looks downwards. “His son-in-law and daughter plan to sell me to the mines.” And then looking up at Agron he says, “I came here to beg you to intercede. Perhaps,” he swallows again, “see if you might purchase me.”

Agron looks at Nasir. He remembers every time his father chuckled, saying how he is too soft for this world – and every time his mother gave his father the look and would say ‘Agron will make this world a better one then.’ Agron knows his own views go against the tide, but he also knows that if a person comes to you asking for help that will save their life, you provide it.

And besides. He has already spoken to Barca. And he knows himself well enough to understand that he is not being fully altruistic here. He has his own interests to pursue, his own reasons beyond wanting to help.

Agron nods, “I think we can purchase you. If Otto will accept our offer, we think we can see it done.”

Nasir’s eyes grow wide and his mouth opens. “R-really?”

“Yes. If he will accept it. Do you know how much the mines are paying?”

“I do not.”

When Agron broke words with Barca, the older man had told him what he thought the mines might pay. The loan to Agron was for, of course, a higher amount than that. Agron is unsure whether Barca’s estimate was accurate or whether he had bumped it up so as to force a higher loan amount. Agron once again has to hope that Crixus and Naevia were correct when they said Barca is to be trusted. He remembers that his parents did frequent business with him and never grumbled over him.

“I will go tomorrow to make an offer,” Agron says.

And now it is his turn to gulp. He has words to say, and he cannot leave them unsaid. He needs to make something clear now. He begins again. “Nasir. I must make something known. Should we purchase you, Duro and I mean to bed you. Not at the same time, of course. But separately. And regularly. We do not want someone who goes to our bed kicking and screaming. Would you do this willingly?”

There. The words are out. Agron’s father would be proud, reminding him that he is master of the house, above any slave. A landowner. A man with desires that deserve to be met. His mother, though, would be frowning.

“Yes. Of course.” Nasir leans forward as he answers, his eyes boldly meeting Agron’s. “I should look forward to it.”

“You are not saying this only because you do not wish to go to the mines?” Agron asks. “My brother and I are not rich men. We want this to be agreeable to all.”

“I have greatly enjoyed all of our touches,” Nasir insists, and again his voice could only be described as enthusiastic. “I would welcome what you speak of!”

“Your enthusiasm is heartening. I can promise in return that Duro and I will be respectful lovers. I may look a fearsome giant but that is not all that I am.” He pauses. “Duro might need to be reined in a bit, but he follows my orders.”

“Yes. Dominus,” Nasir answers with a smile.

“There would be plenty of work too,” Agron adds with a tilt of the head, his face serious. “You know any farm requires endless labor inside, and a constant stream of washing and cooking inside. I often feel that the days and weeks pass like a rushing stream here.”

“Yes, Dominus. I have done everything in my dominus Marcus’ household,” Nasir replies. He then adds, with a smile, “Except, of course, for the heaviest lifting and the things which require men of height…as you and Master Duro well know.”

Agron makes a note that Nasir is already referring to him as “Dominus” - and Duro as “Master Duro”, the title given to a man of rank who is not the dominus. Back when their parents had owned slaves, they had used the honorific “Master Agron” on him.

“It is settled then,” Agron says, with a nod. “Now let us boil water for tea and get the wagon ready. I will return you to Marcus’ place.”

Again Nasir’s eyes grow wide. “That is quite a kindness, Dominus. I had expected to have to run back. Gratitude.”

Agron nods his head slightly in acknowledgement. “If you set out on foot, you will never make it before sunrise. And it is far too cold.” He takes a pointed look at Nasir’s shoes. “You also need far better footwear. We have a few old pairs here, but they would be far too large for you.”

***

Dealing with Barca had not been difficult. Last month, Agron had taken another costly day off to ride into town. Arriving around midday, he had been lucky to find Barca at home. The man had taken up lodging in spacious quarters above the tavern, having recently purchased the tavern and the building.

“Join me for a meal,” Barca said. “The tavern serves some new items inspired by meals from the south. My associate Lugo is often in Sinuessa.” And then, perhaps noting the look upon Agron’s face, he added, “Allow me to treat. You can regale me with a story in exchange. Or perhaps the latest amusing thing your brother has done.”

And so they had sat down to eat and converse, and to eventually get down to business. The tavern had more customers than Agron might have expected at midday although he himself found this new cuisine not as tasty as he’d hoped. Pietros, leather collar around his neck as always, came by and touched Barca’s shoulder. Barca looked up at him with what Agron would describe a loving smile. They exchanged a few words. Pietros then greeted Agron, and went back about his business.

“He is still yours,” Agron observed.

Barca nodded. “He runs most of the tavern’s day to day business. And keeps my cock happy still.”

It was Barca and Pietros who had first introduced Agron to the idea of it. The knowledge that his longings for other men were not unusual, nor something to be feared.

_Years ago, Barca and Pietros had paid one of their visits to Agron’s parents and set about their usual arrangement. They did the butchering work in exchange for a portion of the meat. Because of the distance and the time-consuming nature of the work, Barca and Pietros would work well into the evening and stay the night, sleeping upon mats by the main room’s fireplace. On that night, once everyone had gone to bed, Agron had heard noises coming from the main room. Intrigued, he slowly crept out of bed and opened the door to the main area. It was too dark to see much of anything, but Agron had been able to make out Barca and Pietros’ bodies entwined. He had heard the sounds. All of it was tantalizing and Agron craved more._

_He had resolved that next time they visited, he would learn more. So upon their next visit, Agron had met them in the stable when they arrived and stated bluntly what he wished to learn about. Barca had chuckled, patted Pietros on the shoulder, and commanded, “Explain everything to Agron.” And then, pointing a finger, added, “Without touching him.” He’d looked at Agron and said, “Pietros is my slave, so you’re not to lay a hand on him.” Pietros had gone on to describe what their coupling looked like and the pleasure the two men took from each other’s bodies. Agron was both intrigued and studious, peppering the slave with many questions about the mechanics of it all, until his mother had called down, “Agron! You’re late for your chores! Start on irrigation and start on it now!” Agron hadn’t been able to think of much else for the remainder of that day. Or that week._

In any case, as Agron sat inside the tavern with Barca that day so many years later, he was glad to see Pietros still by his side. Pietros remained one of the best-dressed slaves Agron had ever glimpsed, so Agron always took that as a good sign.

And Agron was able to leave the tavern that day having reached a suitable agreement with Barca.

***

“You’re too tenderhearted for this world.” Duro holds the reins this time as their horses clop along at a steady pace towards Marcus’ farm. He and Agron are on their way to open the negotiations over Nasir’s price.

“Am I?” Agron asks, his gaze on the road ahead. “Aren’t we doing this partially for…our own selfish desires?”

Duro shrugs. “He told you he’s agreeable so I don’t give much concern to that. And don’t forget he’s but a slave. That’s his own misfortunate, not ours. If our positions were reversed, would anyone give two shits about us?” His voice is straightforward, not bitter.

“If our positions were reversed, I’d pray to the gods that someone in this cold world show me some care.”

“Be that as it may, I would prefer a woman in my bed. But….” Duro lets his voice trail off. Their mother gave them clear instruction on that matter. Women must be treated with kindness and respect, and one must keep his hands off of them unless he is ready and willing to marry. Burdening a young woman with a baby and seeing her fall to shame would be unacceptable.

“When you negotiate with Otto, show him the same fierceness you show me when we wrestle,” Duro says after a bit. He falls quiet again before adding, “But perhaps you are right. We are seeking to purchase Nasir for our own desires. We are not too soft.”

“No. We are not.” Agron swallows. “Do you think they will accept the price we offer?” His voice suddenly is small.

Duro hazards a quick glance at his brother. “Remember what Barca advised.”

Agron nods. “Do not start with our best offer,” he recites to himself. “Be ready to negotiate and do not flinch. They do not know how badly I want Nasir, so don’t let the look in my eyes or the movement of my hands give that away. Have some of our extras in our back pocket.” They can offer to help clean and pack up Marcus’ place. They can offer Otto a good deal on their best cuts of meat. The finest pick from their vegetable patch when summer rolls around or sacks of wheat.

Agron takes another breath. But will it be enough? How hard will Otto bargain? How well can Agron truly hide his desire for Nasir? Agron wrings his hands.

_Can he save Nasir from the mines?_

****

TO BE CONTINUED. Please leave a comment, and sorry again for making Nasir a slave! I promise you that the strong, hissing fighter we saw on the show after liberation is inside Nasir. Perhaps he will come out when the time is right.

Also, I based Agron's loft on a place I once stayed at. Here are a few pictures of the main room (ignore the modern appliances and the flags), and the two bedrooms that open into it.

<https://stormkpr.tumblr.com/post/640560599246553088>

<https://stormkpr.tumblr.com/post/640560668734603264>


	2. Chapter Two

Just a reminder to please read the T/Ws from chapter 1, if you haven't already!

* * *

“That seems rather paltry. We could get more from the mines.”

Agron sits at the dining room table of Marcus’ farmhouse. Duro sits to his left. Across the table sit Marcus’ daughter Drusilla and her husband Otto. It is Drusilla who has just spoken.

“This is a fair price,” Agron insists. “I can pay right away and take the slave off your hands as soon as you’d like.”

Despite all of Barca’s words of advice, Agron finds that he is terrified and he knows it must show on his face. His throat is dry and he wishes he’d been offered a drink, even just water. He has to struggle to keep his face impassive even though he guesses that his eyes betray his intensity.

Otto shakes his head. “We can get more from the mines for Nasir.”

“How much more?” Agron asks. “I am not a man of means. Just a simple German farmer who needs help.” He hopes that a mention of his ancestry might help. Otto also has German roots and, as with many of their heritage, they have come to reside in this strange land with its mix of peoples from all over.

“Help which you could probably find cheaper in the form of day laborers,” Otto answers simply. His eyes narrow. “Why are you so keen to purchase this slave?”

“Because our farms are remote. You know that yourselves, what a long trek this is from the village. Last time we tried to hire day laborers, we had to feed and house them for weeks. May as well purchase a slave instead.” Agron is proud at the firmness of his voice and the way he doesn’t flinch from Otto’s eyes.

“One hundred twenty five denari,” Otto says, after a bit. “That is as low as we can go. It’s a charity in fact, since the mining rep offered more.”

The figure 125 is slightly above the number that Barca said is typical for a mining slave at this time. Agron wishes he had more information to go off of, but there was simply no time to post a letter and await an answer.

Agron forces himself to sit still for a few moments. The farm is quiet, since all of it lies fallow other than the apiary. Nasir is nowhere in sight – perhaps he sits upstairs with his dominus.

“One hundred and fifteen,” Agron finally says.

Otto takes a breath and exhales, a bitter smile upon his face. “For that price, I insist upon a 50% down payment now. And we keep Nasir until my father-in-law passes. And both of you,” he looks from Agron to Duro, “provide a full day’s labor cleaning and packing up this place.”

Agron wants to jump out of his seat but he again replays Barca’s words. He sits and maintains level eye contact. “Thirty percent down now. And Nasir joins our household two weeks from today, regardless of whether Marcus has passed or not.” He looks at Drusilla and tilts his head. “No disrespect to your father.”

Otto and Drusilla look at each other, and the wife gives a barely-perceptible nod. “Fine,” Otto says. “It is a steal, but fine. I suppose we can tell our gods that we have done a great kindness today, in keeping a slave away from the mines. And I have done a kindness to my fellow Germans living in this strange land. So let us shake on it – and drink on it – now, and I will have the lawman draw up paperwork when I return to town.”

Agron gets to see Nasir shortly afterwards, when Otto calls for wine and insists the brothers stay for midday meal. Once again, Agron steels himself to not give anything away as Nasir reheats food and pours wine. He forces himself to look anywhere but at Nasir although he knows his own face is just slightly red and he finds that he taps his foot.

“Nasir, take some of this up to my father,” Drusilla commands, gesturing at the soup.

“I will, Domina,” Nasir replies. “But he has not touched his breakfast nor last night’s dinner. He swallowed but a bit of wine.”

“Try anyway. Oh, and Nasir? You will have new owners. In two week’s time,” she says, nodding at the German brothers.

“Yes, Domina,” Nasir replies and again Agron forces himself to just not look. Even still, his ears just seem to perk up at Nasir’s voice. He wishes Nasir didn’t have to leave the room, wishes he could gaze upon him. He dips his bread into his soup and chews. He wonders when Nasir eats and what he eats. The slave is thin but fortunately not emaciated. Still Agron wonders. Agron’s parents had provided their slaves three meals per day, albeit small ones. He has heard that many slaves don’t get three and some don’t get even two per day. Should he leave some of his soup and bread uneaten in case it is the only midday meal Nasir will have? Agron forces himself to place spoon and bread down, though his stomach would have him finish every bite instead of leaving half of the food. Duro briefly looks at him quizzically.

***

After Agron and Duro depart, Drusilla turns to her husband. “Curious,” she murmurs. “The way neither brother much looked at Nasir when he entered the room. Wouldn’t one want to **look** at one’s purchase? Whether I am purchasing a bolt of cloth or a pan or a necklace, I look at it as much as I can.”

Otto shrugs. “Shy boys, perhaps. I still say they got him for a steal,” he adds with a grumble. “I am going to begin to pack up the apiary. Your father cannot keep managing it, and I believe beekeeping will be an enjoyable hobby for me. Fortunately colder weather is here so this is the best time to move the bees.”

“You just want the honeyed wine,” Drusilla smiles.

***

Nasir goes to bed excited. It has happened! Agron and Duro convinced Otto. He pulls his thin blanket against himself, wishing for something just a bit warmer to ward off the chill.

Marcus never let him manage or even learn about household finances, so Nasir doesn’t know how large a sum 115 truly represents. From the snippets he has overheard over the years from members of Marcus’ family, he believes the sum is not insubstantial.

Nasir reminds himself that life with the German brothers won’t be easy. He has performed agricultural work and housekeeping duties his entire life. As soon as he could walk, he was put to harvesting crops back when Marcus used to grow them, and cleaning floors and bathrooms. He remembers once taking a sip of the cleaning solution absent adult supervision, and rapidly spitting it back out. But his work has always ended at nightfall. Will the brothers run him ragged during the nights? Would it be worth it, though, just to have Agron’s lips upon his?

Nasir decides that it would. In fact he feels that he might willingly spend a week inside the mines just for the chance to kiss Agron again, to have their tongues touch each other’s. And then Nasir shakes his head. Unless the brothers decide to beat him every day and work him until he collapses, his life there will be far better than almost anywhere else and he knows the gods have smiled upon him.

The days pass slowly as Nasir waits for two weeks to pass until the agreed-upon day for the transfer.

***

“I have not seen you looking this nervous for a while, brother,” Duro observes. He tilts his head. “Perhaps a few times when you awaited father’s discipline after you’d done some mischief. The time you accidentally set a fire in the old toolshed. Or when you poked open holes in the grain sack just because you wished to.”

Agron chuckles at the memories. Their father was all bluster and no brutality. He disciplined his sons when needed, but the worst part was always just waiting for the punishment.

And Agron realizes that the distraction is helping because he is worried. As they ready the horses and hitch the wagon, fears continue unabated. The agreed-upon date is here, the remaining coin owned inside his pocket. What if Otto and Drusilla do not keep to the bargain? What if they have already sold Nasir to the mines, having taken the 30% down payment and run? What if Agron and Duro are set upon by thieves on the way to retrieve Nasir? Agron shakes his head. At least that last fear is unlikely – one advantage in such a remote region is that thieves tend to cluster far away where there stands greater opportunity.

The fears continue to poke at him as they ride. The wagon bumps along, the road filled with holes and uneven patches. He and Duro jostle to the right as they hit a particularly bad one.

“Seems the road is worse each time,” Duro mumbles.

“Nothing we can’t fix if we have to,” Agron says. “We have spare wheels and we’ve been fixing wagons since the day father put tools in our hands.”

Duro grins. “Nothing will keep you from that boy.”

The second hour passes, and Marcus’ farm comes into view. So far, nothing looks amiss. The fields lay fallow. The apiary is gone though. Agron slows their approach as they near the stables. His heart is truly pounding. Sometimes Nasir greets them from the stables, as if he knows exactly when they will arrive. Agron leaps down from the wagon as soon as he can. Nasir is nowhere in sight.

He and Duro work quickly to secure the horses. He’s not sure if his hands are shaking or not, but Duro says in a low voice, “Calm yourself. The hour for the midday meal approaches – maybe he is cooking. With Drusilla and Otto here, Nasir’s household duties are increased.”

Agron registers Duro’s words, and then strides up to the farmhouse’s front door as soon as he is able. Duro has to move quickly at his heels. As Agron knocks upon the door, he notes that he does not pick up any aromas emanating from the kitchen. His level of worry increases as he stands on the porch and waits.

And then he exhales. Nasir opens the door. He smiles at the sight of the brothers though his expression is quickly somber. “Apologies for not being ready for you at the stables. Marcus is in a bad way.”

Although he knows that Nasir’s words call for a solemn response, Agron wants to smile and hug Nasir. He forces himself to restraint.

The rest of the transaction proceeds quickly. Otto descends the stairs, paperwork in hand. Agron reads it over and judges it to be accurate, though he wishes the lawman had not put so many extraneous words in. As Nasir is directed to get his belongings, Agron reaches into his pocket for the small purse and places the sum on the table. The remaining 80 denari. When Otto counts it out and accepts the sum, Agron allows a brief sigh of relief to escape.

Before Nasir is permitted to depart with the brothers, Drusilla commands that he open the old pillowcase which serves as a sack. “We need to ensure that you are not taking anything that does not belong to you,” she says.

Nasir spreads the contents of the pillowcase onto the tabletop. There is a change of clothing and little else. Agron watches, and he speculates that perhaps Marcus wasn’t a cruel master but nor was he the least bit generous. Back when Agron’s own parents owned a handful of slaves, his father gave them a bit of coin when they had been particularly productive at the end of a long, grueling harvest. His mother gave them small gifts on major festivals, each gift to the taste of each slave. Some requested sweets, some requested trinkets such as necklaces or bracelets with images of their homelands, some requested lotions and salves, and one man requested cologne two years in a row.

“Does he have any other shoes?” Agron asks. “Working in a field instead of inside a house will require some better footwear.”

“No,” comes Drusilla’s reply.

With the expected reply, Agron surmises that perhaps Nasir could use an old pair of his if it’s stuffed with rags. Agron’s finances are almost depleted now, so makeshift solutions will need to suffice.

“What’s that?” Otto asks, rifling through Nasir’s contents upon the table.

Underneath the extra clothing are a few pieces of paper rolled up and a lump of charcoal inside a dirty cloth.

“Paper and charcoal, Master Otto,” replies Nasir. “Dominus allowed me to have these pieces of paper so I could draw in my spare time.”

Otto frowns and grunts. “A slave with spare time.” He then makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Go then. Thank you for your service.”

Agron eyes the paper wondering what Nasir draws. He can’t see it now because the pages are rolled up.

The brothers and Nasir soon take their leave and walk to the stables. “I will drive,” Agron says. “Duro, do you want to sit up front with me or in the wagon with Nasir?”

“It’s always better up front,” he answers. His eyes then dart about. “But we should tie him to something. We don’t want him jumping out and escaping.”

“Where in the gods’ domain would he go?” Agron asks, with a frown. “It’s cold, he has nothing but the clothes on his back, and there’s nothing but dense woods between Marcus’ place and our own.”

Duro puts a hand on Agron’s arm and pulls him a few steps away. Angry at being handled, Agron scowls at his brother.

Duro puts his mouth close to Agron’s ear and hisses, “He’s still a slave. Pretty face or no. Stop coddling him.”

Agron’s face grows warmer still with rage. He pushes Duro back – not with a hard shove, but a decisive move nonetheless. “Don’t tell me what to do! I’m the elder. I—“

Nasir, who remains standing within earshot, cuts in. “Dominus. If I may. I would rather be tied to the wagon than cause a rift between you and brother.” Nasir’s tone is serious and firm, and it seems to be what was needed to break up the possible altercation.

Duro smiles. “See, brother? He is fine with it.”

Agron looks from Nasir to Duro, and back again. And then he says, using a voice and stance that Duro knows not to argue with, “Duro, sit in the wagon with Nasir. That way you can prevent him from taking a heroic leap, without the need for us to tie him like an animal.”

Duro glares at Agron for a second or two and then replies, “As you wish.”

***

Nasir and Duro both sit atop piles of spent grain sacks, and the journey home to the brothers’ place begins. Conversation is stilted; Nasir presumes it due to the brothers’ argument. He wonders how often the two of them quarrel. He has not spent much time with them together – he always had his roll in the hay with one or the other, but when he did glimpse them together in the past, they had seemed very close. The first few times Nasir ever met them, he remembers feeling stabs of pain at the loss of his own brother. He once more wonders where Farid is, though he knows such speculation to be pointless.

“Duro,” Agron orders after a while. “Open the knapsack and pass out the food.”

Duro grunts in reply and follows Agron’s orders. Nasir observes Duro reach for bread and dried meat wrapped in cloths. He serves his brother first, reaching upwards so that Agron can grab the food within one hand while holding the reins with the other. For a few seconds, Nasir wonders if he himself will be fed. Marcus permitted him only two meals per day: one early and one late. ‘You slaves don’t need more than that; you can function perfectly well without,’ he once rasped as he’d noted Nasir’s jealous eyes on his noontime meal. ‘Be glad for the two meals. If it gets too expensive to keep slaves, every master will just send you and your kind to the mines!’ As Marcus got older and sicker, his appetite dwindled, and Nasir would help himself to a few bites of the uneaten midday meal. Of course once Drusilla and Otto came to stay, that had to stop. Nasir tells himself that he is used to deprivation yet he also marvels at how there are some things the body doesn’t ever cease craving. The need for food and the need for love beat within him like a steady drumbeat.

“Enjoy,” Duro says, handing Nasir bread and meat.

“Gratitude, Master Duro,” Nasir replies, with a smile. His eyes are wide. The portion Duro handed him is not even appreciably smaller than the ones eaten by the brothers, despite the fact that they are much larger men. Each bite feels like heaven. Nasir could practically hum with happiness.

Duro then passes around a canteen so each man can drink. “Just water,” Duro says. “We only take wine at dinner, and only when we can afford it. Have you ever had wine?”

“Once a year during the annual festivities,” Nasir answers. “My former dominus would put a cup to my lips and let me take two sips.”

“Once per week on Sundays, I am permitted by my owner – “ Duro’s words are sarcastic and he thumps the back of Agron’s seat as he says them – “to drink two cups with my dinner. I get a pleasant fuzzy feeling.”

“I am told our people, the Germans, favor beer,” Agron calls from the front. He sounds much more relaxed and happy than he did right before they departed. “But no one brews it near here and it was always so expensive that our parents never had it. So we never developed the taste.”

“What do your people in Syria drink, Nasir?” Duro asks.

“He doesn’t know!” Agron calls over his shoulder. “He has never been there.”

“Dominus is right,” Nasir says. “Though my previous dominus made a few remarks over the years about having enjoyed some Syrian wine himself.”

Duro takes another swing from the canteen and moves closer to Nasir. Conversation lulls, and Agron seems to need to focus on steering the wagon over a bumpy section of the road. Duro smiles and places an arm across Nasir’s shoulders. He then reaches for his mouth and kisses it.

Nasir follows along. He actually suspected that the prospect of kisses and more might have been behind Duro’s acquiescence to sitting in the wagon with Nasir. Nasir wonders if either of the brothers has ever had a lover. Agron’s hands have always had such a sense of skill and finesse – and although Duro lacks that a bit, his touch is not unwelcome or overly rough either. These parts are so remote, though, that Nasir doesn’t know where either man would go to find a lover. Perhaps when they go into the village to sell their grain to wholesalers they each have a girl there. Or they visit whores. In any case, Duro’s hands are exploring Nasir’s body now and he is unfastening his own garments. “Here,” Duro says, guiding Nasir’s hand to where he wants it. Nasir knows that Duro likes lots of spit, so he provides that to his hands as he sets to work on Duro’s cock. He remembers the touches and strokes that Duro likes, knowing to grip it firmer than he does Agron and to work it faster. The wagon jostles them a few times but Duro seems to take no bother from it, and he releases quickly.

He then looks at Nasir’s clothes and makes a questioning sound. Nasir nods. He’s hard too; he has always enjoyed the brothers’ touches and his body has always responded automatically. He loosens his own garments. Duro works a bit slowly now, and unlike Agron he doesn’t kiss Nasir once he has taken his own release – but he still puts hands to purpose. Neither brother has ever complained when Nasir groans and grunts, and he has always been rather vocal as his climax approaches, so he doesn’t hold back today either.

“I see we now know the true reason why you wanted the wagon, brother,” Agron calls a bit later and his tone is teasing and relaxed. The three men chuckle. Nasir expects that Agron will want his own needs tended to sooner or later, and he even wonders whether he might stop the wagon so that he and Duro can trade places. But he does not, and after more time passes, they reach the brothers’ place.

Agron is all business once the horses and wagon are tended to. With Duro at his heels, Agron provides Nasir a tour of the fields and the corral. He says that they will teach Nasir what he needs to know “as we go along”, but for now he just wants Nasir to know where things are kept. Nasir watches and listens intently, asking a few questions where he needs them. He has always been quick to learn.

Agron leads them back towards the stables, and acquaints Nasir with its contents. “What about that room?” Nasir asks, craning his head.

“When our parents had slaves,” Duro begins, “it’s where they slept.”

“It is not where you will sleep,” Agron says emphatically.

Nasir looks at it. It’s a concrete cell with one small window near the ceiling, nothing more.

“Our parents weren’t cruel,” Duro adds. “There were blankets in the wintertime. Hay and other bedding for them to sleep upon, too.” He shrugs. “Father always felt it was best to lock them in at nighttime and this was the only place.”

Nasir takes in the information without comment. During his bold trek to the brothers’ place weeks ago when he begged them to intervene, he saw the inside of their dwelling. He understands that it is not large. Most folks upon seeing the cell would probably shrug and say those slaves should have been glad that they had four walls and a ceiling during the winter. Still, Nasir is gladdened to know that Agron has no intention of having this cell occupied again.

With that, Agron leads the group up the staircase and into the loft. The place looks even better in the daylight, Nasir thinks to himself. He guesses that their mother designed the homey touches and the warm colors scheme, and that Agron sees to the maintaining of both its cleanliness and order. Nasir especially likes the fireplace. He remembers sitting by it with Agron during that fateful night. It provides such a nice focal point for the dwelling as well as warmth and comfort.

“Your home is beautiful,” Nasir says. He knows that slaves aren’t generally supposed to offer unsolicited opinions. And yet he feels that Agron wants to hear this. Something about the look in his eyes, the way he keeps glancing at Nasir, the way his voice seems to contain a mixture of pride in his work and respect for Nasir – the mere the fact that Agron purchased him at all when it is clear that the Germans are far from wealthy.

Still, Nasir worries he has overstepped, so he quickly adds, “Apologies for speaking out of turn, Dominus.”

Agron smiles and again Nasir can clearly see the smile reach his eyes. Their corners crinkle. There’s a shine in those green eyes and Nasir cannot look away. “We are proud of it too,” he says. “We work hard to maintain it and the farm, but we are able to make a living here.”

Agron’s own words seem to have cued him to get down to business. Nasir already understands much of the workings of a farm from his days with Marcus before most of the place feel to disrepair. Whether on the fields, in the corral, or inside the home, there is a constant stream of work here and Agron turns his focus to it. Nasir can quickly see that once Agron is focused, tasks are completed. The three men spend the rest of the day at work.

***

After the evening meal is taken, the fireplace is lit along with candles and oil lamps. Agron looks at Nasir and says, “Come. Let us bathe.” His voice is warm and rich, and Nasir understands that the bath is likely a prelude to sex. It has been a long day and the bath will be welcome. Of course Nasir always welcomes Agron’s touch even more.

Nasir sees the brothers exchange a look. He’s not sure how to interpret it, but he watches Duro seats himself down before the fireplace and poke it with a stick. Nasir follows Agron into the bathroom.

Earlier he had been shown the bathtub and the way Agron’s mother had rigged it to make the work of heating the water much easier. “I am still quite impressed with it, Dominus,” Nasir says as he watches Agron pull the lever and easily fill the tub.

“Our mother was a smart woman,” he says. He then turns from his work and looks at Nasir. “Nasir,” Agron begins and his cheeks are just a bit pinkish. “When you and I are…together like this. Preparing for bath and…bed. I would prefer that you call me by my name, instead of ‘Dominus.’”

“Of course,” Nasir answers. And then, just to remind himself and to show Agron that he listens, he adds, “Agron.”

Agron nods, and starts to remove his clothing. Nasir does the same. He has seen Agron naked before, of course. During their time back inside Marcus’ stables, usually they were together before the sun went down and there was sufficient sunlight. He has seen and touched Agron’s broad shoulders, muscular back, and thick thighs before and yet they still stir his loins. As does the fact that Agron **wants** him. True, Nasir could tell himself that Agron only wants him because he’s convenient….their farm so far from the nearest village, their dwelling too small for either brother to take a wife. And yet Nasir knows that can’t be it. He still suspects that the coin that changed hands was not an insubstantial amount and that his labors on the farm and inside the house won’t quite balance the scales.

Nasir quickly removes his own garments. Agron steps inside the tub, and Nasir has to admit that he fully enjoys the look of Agron’s backside as he steps into the bath. Agron then reaches out a hand to steady Nasir as he enters. Agron sits down and gestures for Nasir to sit between his legs, facing the same direction. It is a new experience for Nasir. The feel of Agron’s chest and belly against his own lack. Sitting between those thighs that he was admiring just a moment ago and surrounded by the luxuriously warm water.

“Did you bathe often inside a tub?” Agron asks.

“No, Dom – I mean, no Agron. Marcus’ wife enjoyed the Roman style of bathing, but once she passed, Marcus never used the tub much. He favored the bucket method.”

“Ah, the bucket method,” Agron chuckles. “We used that before mother put the tub in.”

Agron shifts his weight a bit so he is reclining more. He gently coaxes Nasir to rest himself against Agron. He places a kiss upon Nasir’s shoulder.

“It is quite nice in here,” Nasir murmurs.

“Yes,” Agron says, and then plants another kiss, this one adjacent to the leather collar around Nasir’s neck.

Nasir has never shied away from touching Agron, and he does so now, running his hands along Agron’s powerful thighs. He is rewarded with a moan from Agron, who then touches a hand to Nasir’s chest. He gently tweaks a nipple and brings his lips to Nasir’s ear for another kiss. Nasir feels himself growing hard and can also feel Agron’s own hardness against his backside. It is all a bit intoxicating, Nasir feels. The sumptuous warmth of the water and being inside Agron’s arms, with Agron’s body surrounding his and their mutual arousal growing by the second.

“My former dominus had a stack of drawings inside his study,” Nasir murmurs. “They had interesting pictures. Of people bedding each other.”

“Did they?” Agron asks, and Nasir could only describe his voice as sounding enthralled. “Please tell me more.”

“There was one where a woman had a man’s cock inside her mouth. I was intrigued. I always wanted to try it with you, but our times together were so brief.”

Although Nasir cannot see Agron’s face, he feels his excitement just in the intensity of his reply – as well as, of course, from Agron’s ever-hardening cock. “I would have us try that as well! I think it could be wonderful. Were there other interesting pictures?”

“There were. One of them made me wonder if it is possible to place cock inside ass,” Nasir murmurs.

“It is!” Agron answers with unbridled enthusiasm.

“Oh, I see you do have some knowledge here!” Nasir smiles, his words almost sounding teasing. “Perhaps you have also viewed most interesting pictures?”

“I have not,” Agron answers, and his voice has shifted a bit towards its more straight-forward tone. “But my knowledge comes from elsewhere. My family has always had dealings with a man named Barca – in fact, he is the man who lent me the coin used to purchase you. He has a slave who is forever at his side. One day I spoke to the slave, Pietros, and asked him if he would share information about their coupling. I knew that they were together as husband and wife because I once overheard them. In any case, Pietros spared no detail. All of what you describe is possible – and more.”

“And more?” Nasir asks, his eyes shinning. “I would hear all of the detail! Or, if you prefer, we could fall to bedroom and simply demonstrate.”

“Let us do so straightaway then.”

The men scramble from the tub and dry each other with towels. Despite his eagerness, Nasir takes a moment to just gaze at Agron. When the taller man turns around to hang his towel upon a hook, Nasir’s eyes grow wide. Agron’s rear end really is either adorable or lust-inducing or both. He would love to grip and squeeze the cheeks, though even with a dominus such as Agron that would be unheard of. Nasir realizes he is staring, mouth open.

“Oh, you like what you see!” Agron says, turning his head.

“I do,” Nasir admits, his voice throaty.

“May I do something that I have always wanted to do?” Agron asks, once Nasir has hung his towel to dry.

Nasir is both curious and eager to hear Agron’s request. “Of course.”

“I would carry you to the bedroom.”

Nasir grins and spreads his arms in a gesture of assent.

With that, Agron easily hoists Nasir into his arms and carries him to the bedroom. Nasir has no memory of ever being carried in his life and if his lust had not been raging so strongly, he would want to hoot in sheer joy.

Once inside the bedroom, Agron gently lowers Nasir down onto the bed. “To think,” Agron says, “now we will love each other atop a proper bed instead of a pile of hay.”

“Or standing against a wall,” Nasir adds. There are fleeting, random thoughts going through Nasir’s mind during the second or two that follow (Did Duro watch them as Agron carried him from bathroom to bedroom? Agron’s bedroom is as tidy and charming as the rest of the place. And this is not Nasir’s first time on a bed…once or twice when Marcus was sleeping, Nasir had gone into one of the other bedrooms and lain atop the bed but fearing punishment, he sprang off after a few seconds). But the thoughts are quickly washed out to sea with the overwhelming waves of passion….Agron atop him, kissing him, pressing his body against his. As Agron always is with Nasir, he is slow and gentle, he doesn’t rush, he seems to understand that they have time. Nasir finds that he is the one who is soon openly moaning, starting to frantically thrust his hips, and getting more aggressive with placing his tongue inside Agron’s mouth.

“Agron,” Nasir breathes, “I am ready to try what you will. Perhaps we could…”

His voice trails off, as Agron responds not with words but with deeds. He apparently has decided to put tongue to action as he begins moving down Nasir’s body, mostly licking but also sometimes kissing his trail downwards.

“Let us see what this is all about,” Agron says, as he reaches Nasir’s hard cock.

Well-trained as a slave, Nasir knows he should pay careful attention to whatever it is Agron might do. He tells himself he should take well note of it, so that he can replicate it on Agron. But he fails. Almost the instant that Agron sticks his tongue out and begins lapping at the head of Nasir’s cock, Nasir abandons all rational thought. Everything Agron does from that point forward – tonguing the head, licking up and down the length, using a hand on the shaft while mouth closes upon the rest – drives Nasir to madness.

“You-you learned all this just from the words of that one slave?” Nasir stammers out after a bit.

Agron makes a noise and then lifts his head to say, “He was very detailed. And I asked a dozen questions.”

“This is truly wondrous,” Nasir manages. Agron’s lips, tongue, and hand continue to work their magic. Unsure what to do as his bliss approaches, Nasir decides to gently nudge Agron’s face away and replace it with his own hand so as to avoid releasing inside his lover’s mouth.

Agron looks up, meets Nasir’s eyes, and smiles. “Your dark hair looks so good covered in sweat,” Agron murmurs.

Nasir pants a bit and then adds, “I am at a loss for words, Agron. Except to say, let me try to reciprocate. Though I don’t know if I can do as well as you did.”

The two men reposition their bodies. The position they had just taken seems to have worked well, with Nasir upon his back and Agron using Nasir’s torso as a pillow. So they assemble into the reverse. Nasir is glad to see that Agron’s cock is as hard as ever and is already seeping his early arousal.

“Your cock seems to have grown even larger in size from when I used to stroke it with my hands,” Nasir says with a smile.

Agron chuckles and says, “Stop. You are going to make me spill now.”

“That would be a shame, indeed.” Nasir grips the base and brings his mouth to the tip. “Now let me see if I can bring you the same pleasure that you brought me.”

As Nasir gets to work on him, Agron reaches for pillows to prop himself up a bit. Then he reaches down to brush Nasir’s hair out of the way, holding some of it back.

“I would watch everything,” Agron says.

Nasir murmurs a sound to indicate agreement and continues to lick and suck Agron. He enjoys this task. Having Agron inside his mouth is quite thrilling for Nasir, and he is especially enjoying the sounds Agron is making. He wishes they’d thought to try this during one of their trysts inside Marcus’ stables. Nasir imagines that his technique is probably amateurish, and if he is supposed to somehow get the entire cock down his throat, he isn’t anywhere close to being able to do so. But Agron seems to really enjoy his mouth on the head of it, and his hands working the rest. After not long, Agron is whispering, “I’m close, I’m close” and then he loudly takes his release.

Since Nasir has never spent more than a few seconds upon a bed ever, he’s not sure exactly what he should do next. But Agron gestures for him to come closer. This was something the two of them did during their days inside the stables – Agron would always hold him close afterwards. Nasir tries to not compare the two brothers, though he knows that doing so is inevitable. Duro was never unkind, never cold, but he never seemed to want to spend much time doing what Nasir can only term cuddling. That is what Agron is doing with Nasir now. They have just moved into a position where Nasir rests his head upon Agron’s chest, and Agron is lovingly stroking him. Nasir never wants to leave, never wants this to end. The intense sexual pleasure he has just experienced combined with Agron’s cuddles are making Nasir’s heart want to sing with happiness.

Nasir knows that at some point he should inquire as to where Agron wants him to sleep. When they arrived earlier today, Agron directed Nasir to place his meager belongings inside a drawer in Agron’s room. There is both a sofa and a comfortable-looking chair near the fireplace. Could either of those be where Nasir will typically sleep? Nasir again tells himself that he should ask where Agron would like him to remove himself to, but it soon becomes clear not to ask the obvious. Agron clearly wants him right here. In fact, a few minutes pass and Agron’s breathing would seem to indicate that he has fallen asleep. Nasir snuggles deeper against Agron’s chest and gradually drifts off.

* * *

TBC - Please let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter Three

Agron wakes at some point during the night. Nasir has shifted slightly but is still partially draped across his chest. Agron reaches with his free hand to tousle Nasir’s hair. The younger man continues to sleep, oblivious.

Last night went much as Agron had dreamed it would. If he is being honest with himself, he has always wanted Nasir this way. Maybe it was seeing Barca and Pietros – and their obvious happiness despite one man being slave to the other - years ago that sparked the idea. Agron had been accompanying his parents since he was a boy to Marcus’ farm and he can’t quite remember the first time that he took notice of Nasir. But he definitely remembers his first time alone inside the barn with Nasir, and the fact that it was **Nasir** who initiated that first kiss.

And _again_ if Agron is being honest with himself, he has spent the past few years just living for those visits to Marcus’ place so he and Nasir could kiss and cuddle and stroke. Now Nasir is here, inside his bed. Their first time together atop a real bed was just the paradise that Agron had thought it would be. And the fact that they were able to use their mouths on each other, to try something new, and that they both clearly enjoyed it so much.

Tomorrow Duro will want his turn.

Years ago, after his first kiss with Nasir, Agron had told his brother everything. Maybe it was because they had always shared everything, maybe it was because Duro had demanded to know why Agron had been stumbling around, looking moonstruck. But once Duro had been told about it, he had insisted upon getting time with Nasir at their next visit. And since then, the brothers had always alternated - and Nasir had never voiced complaint. Not that he could, as Agron reminds himself today; he should not forget that Nasir is a slave.

As Agron continues to speculate while still playing with Nasir’s hair this night, he has to admit one more truth to himself. He no longer wants Duro to “have his turn” with Nasir. In the past, it never truly bothered Agron that much, the fact that Duro had made his trips to the stables and to Nasir’s arms. In the past, it had seemed fair to Agron. Maybe, he thinks, he even felt a little sorry for Duro and wanted his younger brother to have some enjoyment in life. The land they live in seems, at times, like a jumble of different cultures and rules, but the tradition and the law regarding primogeniture have always held fast. The property and finances all belong to Agron, whether that is fair or not. And Agron knows full well that he can be demanding and quick-tempered and that despite it all, Duro has always been a good brother, taking equal accountability for the success of their farm and their livelihood.

He still does not want Duro to have his turn with Nasir though. Not at all. Agron knows that despite the bliss that came after a night of loving this comely man, he is not looking forward to tomorrow.

***

Nasir finds that his first full day with the German brothers is one of the busiest days he has lived so far.

Years tending to the elderly Marcus may have softened Nasir and led him to forget the myriad of tasks on a busy farm, one which two men rely upon to earn their bread. The list of items that must be tended to is endless, and Nasir can only marvel at the fact that the brothers had visited Marcus as often as they had. Nasir’s day begins with a kiss from Agron, and then became a nonstop flood of work split evenly among the three men. Just taking care of the beef cattle alone could have occupied Nasir all day, but the wheat fields and vegetable patch needed tending, and the house kept in order. Three hearty meals needed to be prepared, and cleaning needed to happen. Nasir would not say that he is being run ragged but he would say that he is doing what the two brothers are doing: spending every moment in motion.

Because Nasir is new here, he’s uncertain what the brothers’ dynamic usually looks like. But Agron seems to be filled with a mixture of energy partnered with a demanding side – and something else, which Nasir can’t quite place. When he watches the brothers, he sees that Agron appears almost angry at Duro. Perhaps anger isn’t the right word, but Agron is a bit overbearing with Duro. For his part, Duro today seems to just be taking it in stride and trying to meet Agron’s demands.

By the time the sun is setting and Nasir is heating up leftovers of the stew he prepared for lunch, he has to admit that he is tired. It’s a good kind of tired, one that follows a day of honest work alongside good people, but it is fatigue nonetheless. Duro clomps up the stairs, bathes, and sits down to eat. Agron follows a few minutes later, carefully pouring out one cup of wine for each man. And then Nasir sits down at the table with them to eat. Although this is now the fourth meal he has taken inside this home, he almost has to pinch himself to believe the fact that he sits at the table with his owner. His meals inside Marcus’ farmhouse had been taken either standing up near the stove or sitting on the stairs leading to the back door. The very notion of a slave eating with the family would have been unheard of.

Agron has hardly taken two bites of his stew when he cranes his head towards the fireplace. “Duro. You did not gather firewood.”

“Tomorrow,” Duro sighs. “We have enough for tonight. I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow you are going to need to finish the fence repair – and a hundred other tasks.”

Duro exhales. “Agron, stop. I know what my duties are and they will get done. The three of us have been working since before daybreak so let us enjoy the meal and take some rest.”

Agron is quiet. Nasir looks from one brother to the other and then back down at his stew. After a bit, Agron looks at Nasir and asks, “What did you think, Nasir, of your first day on the farm?”

Nasir answers, though not without taking a second to silently note a few things. One is the gentle way Agron addresses him. The other is the way his own heart just jumps a bit at Agron’s tenderness. He wishes he were back inside Agron’s arms right now, back exploring each other’s bodies and brushing lips together. He also has to struggle to simply answer the question, given that no one in Marcus’ family ever asked him his opinion on anything.

“I appreciate how well-run your place is,” Nasir says. “Back when I was a child, my former dominus had other slaves and one of them used to talk to us about his previous place. He spoke of disorder and chaos, and I always feared to go to a place like that. Your place is….wonderful.”

“We try to maintain something that our parents would be proud of,” Agron says with pride, his eyes still shinning at Nasir.

The remainder of dinnertime passes much this way. Agron is terse with Duro but can only be called sweet with Nasir. Duro seems happy to take his last bite of bread and to watch Nasir stand and begin to clean.

“When you’re done Nasir,” Duro begins, “come to my room.” He then adds, looking at his brother and sounding firmer than he has all day, “As we discussed, Agron.”

Nasir sees Agron make a face before retiring to sit by the fireplace.

***

Bedding Duro here is much as it was inside the stable. The man is kind enough and never rough. But what Agron did yesterday could only be termed lovemaking, whereas Duro is clearly not interested in that sort of thing. As soon his own clothing is discarded, Duro bids Nasir to put mouth to cock – without even asking Nasir to undress. As Nasir does so, he wonders how Duro knew to ask for this, since this is a first for the two of them together. Perhaps Duro also had a conversation with Barca’s slave or perhaps he also saw pictures like those Nasir saw. Or perhaps he and Agron had discussed the subject earlier. In any case, Nasir does what he must and is once again glad that Duro has never mistreated him – though he would so greatly prefer an experience like last night’s, full of kissing and touching all over and skin against skin. Full of **Agron**.

As Duro seems to get closer to fulfillment, he places a firm hand on the back of Nasir’s head. He whispers, “Can you take more in?”

Nasir attempts to do so, but given his inexperience, he gags. “Apologies!” he sputters. After coughing a couple of times, he adds, “I am new to this. Apologies.”

“Think nothing of—“

And then all of a sudden, the door to Duro’s room is open and Agron is standing in the doorway. “Are you hurting him??” Agron roars.

Duro jolts upwards, and Nasir turns his head. It’s dark inside their dwelling, most of the light coming from the main room’s fireplace, which is behind Agron. So Nasir cannot see Agron well, though he catches those powerful green eyes flashing in anger.

“By all the gods!” Duro exclaims, fumbling to cover himself with a blanket. “How fucking dare you!”

“Answer the question!” Agron demands. “Were you hurting him? You know that you cannot force the entire thing down his throat just like that!”

“I didn’t!” Duro yells back, throwing his hands in the air.

Agron’s tone drastically shifting, he tenderly asks, “Nasir, are you okay?”

“Apologies, Dominus,” Nasir manages, a bit at a loss right now. “I-uh, I was not being harmed. I…I tried to take in too much and…being so inexperienced, I gagged. Apologies. To both of you.”

“You do not need to apologize. Duro forced it on you,” again Agron’s tone is gentle, patient.

Duro slams his hand onto the bed. “Agron, I cannot fucking believe this! You can see here that he is fine. How dare you barge in here and interrupt! Were I not naked and….and in this state, I would get up and beat you to a pulp!” He is fuming, and although Nasir is accustomed to keeping his opinions to himself, he certainly cannot fault Duro for his anger.

“I seem to recall that I win every time we wrestle,” Agron answers straightforwardly.

“Not next time. I-I still cannot believe that you barge in here like this! Do not ever do it to me again or you will find yourself parted from your own cock.”

“You dare threaten me?” Agron asks. His straightforward tone from a second ago is gone. He takes a step closer to the bed.

Duro takes a pronounced breath. Sitting up fully now, blanket over his lap, he seems to try a new approach. Perhaps, Nasir thinks, Duro is remembering that as annoying as the interruption is, he truly cannot win against his elder brother. “Brother. You are acting unreasonably. You can see that all is well here. Nasir himself said that he is fine. I was not brutish with him. You and I **agreed** to share him,” he says, insistently. “That was part of our bargain in spending so much coin to get him.” He pauses, “I would prefer to have a wife, and a small cottage on this property – but we know that we cannot afford that. And especially not now when we spent 115 denari - plus interest that we will need to pay to Barca – on buying Nasir.”

“You supported it,” Agron says. “You did not voice objection.”

“I supported it for the very reason that we **agreed** to share him,” Duro answers, and Nasir guesses he is fighting to keep exasperation from his voice.

During the brothers’ exchange, Nasir is unsure where to keep his gaze and he is glad that it is dark. Generally, slaves are to look either straight ahead or downwards, and especially when the family that owns them is fighting.

Ignoring Duro for a moment, Agron again addresses Nasir, “Are you certain he wasn’t hurting you? I would see you treated well here.”

“Yes, Dominus,” Nasir says. “Gratitude for your concern, but….all is well.”

Agron now takes a breath. “I will leave you two alone then.” He points a finger at and takes a step towards Duro as he says, “Do not abuse him. Ever. Or by all the gods, I will inflict enough pain on you to make Jupiter himself quake.”

With that, Agron leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

With a sigh, Duro flops back down upon the bed, his head hitting the pillow. Unsure what to say or do, Nasir remains sitting by his side. Duro uses a few choice words to describe his brother adding, “It is bad enough that I must bend to his will in managing this farm but now he would dictate my bedroom activities as well.” He takes another breath and then says, “Alright. Shall we resume?”

When Duro is finished, Nasir is again uncertain what will happen next. During their times in the stable together, Duro used to stroke Nasir to completion but Nasir is so flummoxed now that he isn’t aroused. A fact which Duro ascertains with a pointed look at and pat against Nasir’s trousers. “If you are all good then, I might go to bed now,” Duro says.

“Yes, Master Duro. Um….apologies, but can you tell me where I am to sleep tonight?”

“Oh. Uh, what about in the main room on the sofa? It should be warm enough there. There’s an extra blanket in the closet if you get cold.” And then with a yawn, Duro adds, “Goodnight. And – uh, thank you.”

“Goodnight.”

Nasir does as Duro bids. The sofa is comfortable and the fireplace truly is glorious. It is warm and glowing, and Nasir figures he will be fine without the extra blanket. Although he already misses sleeping in Agron’s arms as he did last night, he still understands that this is far better than his mat on the cold hallway floor outside of Marcus’ room.

He soon begins to drift off, lulled by the crackle of the fireplace. Dimly he becomes aware of footsteps and of Agron gently placing a snug blanket atop him and kissing his forehead.

***

“I apologize. What I did was wrong, and it won’t happen again. As long as I am certain that Nasir isn’t being harmed.”

Agron speaks the words the following morning once the three men have sat down to their porridge. He hates having to admit that he was wrong, but he knows that he needs to say something.

Duro takes a breath and remains looking into his bowl. “How about I accept your apology and I promise you will never have reason to fear for Nasir?” He then looks at Agron, “So don’t ever barge in again.” And then he adds, with a smile. “Please. Big brother.”

“As I said,” Agron meets Duro’s gaze, “as long as I am certain Nasir is not being harmed then it will not happen again.”

“Very well.” Duro then laughs and mutters something under his breath. Agron thinks he might have said something like ‘I am never going to get to have at his ass, am I?’ but decides to ignore it. Duro should be satisfied with his apology, Agron resolves.

After breakfast, the three men set about their work. Putting aside his feelings for Nasir, Agron has another reason to be glad the younger man is here. Nasir is productive. He learns exceptionally quickly. The amount of labor he undertakes far outweighs whatever the household will spend to feed another mouth. Nasir could use better clothing for the cold season and he still will need better shoes – which will be purchased next time one of the brothers makes the trip to the village - but even the cost of those items will be made up for soon enough just by Nasir’s labor.

His path crosses with Nasir’s a few times when they are tending the fields. Agron stops his weeding work to reach for Nasir’s chin and kiss his lips. Nasir enthusiastically returns the kiss.

“Should we find a quiet place?” Nasir asks. He tilts his head. “Duro is nowhere in sight.”

“Oh, but I want to,” Agron says. He knows he is eyeing Nasir ravenously and he feels physically pained at the answer he has to give. “But duty before pleasure, and we must finish weeding this section.”

“Of course, Dominus.”

“Tonight though! After dinner.”

“I shall count the hours down,” Nasir vows, his eyes twinkling.

Agron stands for just a second or two, simply watching Nasir resume working. Watching the beautiful man and wanting to wrap his arms around him. He then gets back to his own work, happily whistling a tune. True, it will be agony waiting for the hours to plod by but he knows it will be worth it.

And it is indeed worth it. Once dinner is finished, the house is in order, and bathing has happened, Agron finds himself in paradise. He is atop Nasir, holding himself up so as to not crush the smaller man. Both men are sated now. But Agron can’t break off contact with him and doesn’t want to stop kissing him. Nasir is stroking his hair and murmuring.

“I take it you were well pleased?” Nasir asks, smiling.

“You have all the evidence,” Agron answers. “As I did with you.”

“Indeed. I cannot believe you say you have never done that with anyone before me. Your lips and tongue are….well, beyond my wildest dreams.”

Agron chuckles. “Stop, Nasir. You are going to find me aroused again!”

“I would have no objection to that.” Nasir touches a few fingers to Agron’s face and strokes it. Agron later takes a few of the fingers into his mouth. They remain cuddling together and talking about nothing in particular until sleep overtakes them. Agron finds that sharing the bed with someone he enjoys so much is also a special kind of pleasure. He wakes up a few times during the night just to experience the joy of Nasir’s sleeping form against his own.

***

The following day is Sunday, the day of the week that many of those who live inside town usually reserve for religious observances. The brothers have always been too far from the village to partake, but their parents long ago created a few rituals that the brothers still follow though they are not religious. One of them is to cease work a couple hours early, if at all possible. The other is something Duro mentioned earlier, indulging in two cups of wine at dinner instead of one. And when their finances and supplies allow it, special treats are consumed.

The brothers explain this to Nasir over dinner. Agron is the one who uncorks the wine and who pours each man his second round once they have finished their dinner. Nasir can only blink at the turn his fortunes have taken. From being constantly lonely to being in the arms of a man who seems to just adore him. From eating two meals a day, usually while sitting on the back steps, to sitting at the table with the family – even though the family is “only” two brothers. True, Nasir works much harder here than he did during his last few years with Marcus. His back and hands ache in ways he has never experienced before. Muscles he wasn’t aware of before cry out at times, and he still has much to learn in order to work more efficiently. And yet without a doubt his life here is many times better than it was before. The enjoyment of looking at Agron, of wine and a full belly, is remarkable.

Agron then gets up and rummages around the pantry. “We do have some left,” he says with a flourish.

Nasir exchanges a look with Duro. “It will be good,” Duro says. Nasir notes that Duro is smiling and he speculates that the brothers seem good about not holding grudges with each other. He speculates that living in such close proximity, they just can’t. He also surmises that they do truly like each other. Most of the time.

Agron sets a plate down upon the table. Six items are on the plate, and Duro promptly pops one into his mouth. Agron asks Nasir, “Do you know what they are?”

“I do,” Nasir says. “I used to serve them to my former dominus and his family, though I never had them myself. I believe they are dates, and that inside of them are ground up nuts.”

“You are correct!” Agron says, still sounding delighted. He gestures at Nasir, “Go on. There are two for each of us.”

Nasir smiles and reaches for one. Indeed, it is delicious. Almost too sweet, but rich and wondrous. He chews it slowly as Agron watches.

“Gratitude, Dominus,” Nasir says when he has finished chewing. “This is….a wonderful new experience.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Nasir can see Duro make a face that could be described as good-natured but also amused and one step away from an eye-roll. But Nasir does not take too much notice of it, as Agron continues to watch him, enthralled.

As Duro begins eating his second date and finishing off his second cup of wine, Nasir has to admit he is still focused on Agron. Agron’s generosity, the fact that he would yield a treat such as this for a slave. And the way Agron leans forward in his seat clearly just watching Nasir savor the treat. At some point Agron tells Nasir to do as Duro and go ahead and have a second one. Nasir can just smile and say, “If you insist.”

Duro gets up, saying he will stoke the fireplace. Nasir and Agron remain at the table, enjoying the dates and wine. Agron attempts to give his second date to Nasir, but Nasir insists that he cannot possibly eat three and that he wants Agron to have it.

Eventually they tear themselves away and join Duro by the fireplace. Agron explains that this is also one of their traditions on Sunday evenings – sitting by the fire and relaxing, spending time on their hobbies. Agron enjoys woodworking, and he settles into it. Duro has needle and thread in hand and says, “Don’t laugh and call this women’s work. I’ve always enjoyed mending clothing and sewing. It puts my mind at ease.” Agron tells Nasir he is welcome to get his paper and charcoal and to draw.

As the evening progresses, Nasir reminds himself once more that he is not dreaming. But it feels like a fantasy. Sitting by a fireplace with what he would have to describe his new family. True, he knows he is a slave and no amount of wishful thinking will change that. But he has been well-fed, given wine to drink, and is happily sketching a picture of Agron as Agron woodworks and Duro continues to sew.

Nasir asks the brothers a bit about their parents, and they are happy to open up and share some of the good times they had growing up. Duro seems to love recounting the mischievous things they got into – egged on by Agron always – and the times they either outwitted their parents or had to face the punishments. Punishments which always were milder than their father would initially roar about. When the conversation turns more serious, Agron mentions that they had a little sister who died before reaching the age of two. Nasir had wondered about that, figuring that there must have been other siblings. But the girl – Etta was her name -- has been dead a long time, and Agron mentions that their mother had several stillbirths as well. They ask Nasir what he remembers about his own brother, and although the memories are scant, he shares them. He is glad that they ask.

A bit later, Duro clears his throat. “I’m for bed now.” He looks at Agron and adds, “It’s my turn,” before glancing at Nasir.

Agron nods. “Duro. When you finish, will Nasir sleep here on the sofa?”

“I like having my own bed,” Duro says as he gets up. “And he seemed just fine on here two nights ago. It’s right by the fireplace, one of the best places in the house!”

Nasir nods and follows Duro into his room. He glances back at Agron and sees Agron finish off the last of his wine.

Later, when Duro is finished with him, Nasir returns to the sofa and the fireplace. He stokes the fire a bit before reaching for a pillow and settling onto the sofa.

Nasir is unsurprised when the door to Agron’s room opens moments later and he hears Agron move with far more grace and lightness than Nasir would have thought possible.

“Are you awake?” Agron whispers. “Do you want to sleep in my bed?”

“Yes and yes, Dominus,” Nasir replies, sitting up from the sofa.

“Agron,” he reminds Nasir. “Just Agron. When we’re together like this.”

Moments later, Nasir is under the covers with Agron. The two men are cuddling and kissing and engaging in a good-natured debate. Nasir is insisting on providing pleasure to Agron even though it is not his turn, Agron is gently resisting and telling Nasir to get the sleep he needs. They playfully go back and forth like this for a little while and Nasir is happy when he successfully coaxes Agron’s trousers off and tends to Agron’s – and his own - needs.

“Might I make a confession?” Nasir asks later. He and Agron are spooned, his back to Agron’s chest. The feeling of being encased within Agron’s strong arms is one that Nasir savors.

“Of course,” Agron murmurs.

“I want to someday try the other thing we talked about.” He pauses. “Cock in ass,” he adds, in case Agron isn’t sure what he means. “But I am afraid,” he says with a slight laugh. “You are so large.”

Agron is silent for several seconds. “I understand, and - and, Nasir, please know I will never force anything on you. Nor would I ever rush you. We are but young men and have our whole lives ahead of us.”

Nasir once again silently thanks the gods that Agron is so easy to talk to. “You-you mentioned speaking about the subject with a slave named Pietros. Barca’s boy. Did he say anything about how it is to be done?”

“He did. He said to go slowly and to use lots of oil. He also said that the man taking the cock has to really want it.” Agron pauses, and then adds, “So I hope you know that I mean it when I say we do not need to rush and you must not feel obligated in any way.”

A laugh escapes Nasir’s mouth before we can stop it. “I appreciate that Agron, but you know, you do own me. You can do as you wish.”

Agron breaks their position and gently rolls Nasir over so he can meet his eyes. The room is dark yet there is no mistaking the intensity upon Agron’s face. “That is our reality and there is nothing to be done about that. Still, I mean what I say. I cannot conceive of the idea of forcing that on you.”

Nasir’s breath is absent for a moment or two at the seriousness of Agron’s face and words. “I understand. And truly, know that I also mean what I say – I want to….to couple with you in this manner someday. I only fear it, as it seems difficult. You said that Barca and his boy visit periodically to do the butchering? Perhaps we can break words with them on this topic next time. Learn if there are any other hints and suggestions they have.”

Agron nods. “Let us do that then. In the meantime, spare no other thought to the matter. You and I are becoming experts at using lips and tongue upon each other.” He sighs happily. “Now we truly should cease discussing this or the largeness of my cock. Otherwise I will become aroused again and we will never find sleep.”

He reaches to kiss Nasir’s lips again.

“I would not argue with that, you must know,” Nasir says, his eyes dancing.

_**TO BE CONTINUED** _

_**Comments are always appreciated!** _


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gives the backstory on Barca and Pietros in this AU. But never fear, my fellow Nagron lovers! I will be back in less than a week with our regular Nagron-centric chapter.

_Setting: Several years ago, in the heart of the village_

Barca has been having business dealings with Solonius for a few years now. Their latest venture has just turned a decent profit, and so at last Barca – despite his inferior social standing - has been invited into Solonius’ home for a celebratory glass of wine.

For Barca, the evening begins in a fairly unremarkable way. The wine is good, and a slave serves nutcakes to go along with it. The discussion of future ventures is fruitful, and the two men have several ideas for other viable endeavors. However, Barca has to admit that his gaze keeps drifting towards the slave who serves them. There is…something within his eyes, the way he doesn’t seem to fear meeting Barca’s glance. His beautiful, unmarked skin. His gentle face which lacks the hardened detachment that most slaves are forced to endure life with. And yet the slave also has a beguiling lack of timidity, which again Barca has rarely seen in a slave. Even small things about the slave capture Barca’s attention, such as the elegant way he turns his wrists when he is pouring wine.

Solonius seems to notice the direction of Barca’s looks. “The slave’s name is Pietros,” he offers. “My brother Octavius visits every Tuesday and pays me 15 denari for the privilege of lying with him,” Solonius adds. “Our agreement is that I keep Pietros from others’ hands.”

Is it Barca’s imagination or did Pietros just wink at him? Unflustered, Barca remarks, “You are a businessman through and through. But such a pity that no one else is allowed to enjoy Pietros.” He then boldly asks, “Does Pietros like the act?”

Solonius laughs. “How would I know? He never complains.” He tilts his head and asks, bemused, “Pietros, do you like having sex?”

“I do. I also enjoy a handsome man. Dominus.” Pietros speaks the words and looks at Barca as he says them. Barca’s mouth drops open at Pietros’ brazenness.

Solonius again chuckles and even slaps his knee. “The insolence! Slaves are an endless source of amusement!” He then turns his head towards the slave and adds, “Well, Pietros, I am glad to know that, even though neither my brother nor I could be termed handsome.” He turns back to look at Barca. “Come to think of it, my brother **has** indicated that Pietros seems to enjoy it.” He shrugs, “In any case, Octavius keeps returning every Tuesday and paying the money so I suppose that has to tell you something.”

It does. Barca has never met this Octavius before but nonetheless Barca has found that as the years go by, he requires a bed partner who is not just willing but enthusiastic. He thinks back to the two men he has loved and lost, Cyprian and Auctus, both long gone to the underworld, both so happy when they were in his arms. If Barca wanted, he could pay a couple of coins at the whorehouse again, but there are only ever two results of that prospect. Either Barca gets a terrified young man who cowers at his touch, or Barca fucks a man whose cock is limp, flopping like a wet noodle as Barca thrusts. Barca has never met a male whore who even attempted to hide his dislike of – or even fear of – the act. The prospect of returning to a brothel does not hold the remotest appeal.

As the weeks go by, Barca continues to do business with Solonius and they meet at his house frequently. Pietros is usually there, attending to them, looking brashly at Barca, and even once or twice brushing against him or stumbling so as to force body contact.

“I must confess that I sometimes enjoy seeing how taken you appear with Pietros – I might enjoy that even more than I enjoy drinking wine with you and signing papers,” Solonius says to Barca one evening.

Barca knows he is a good gambler, as he tends to bet on races rather than cards. He is aware of the fact that he is far too easy to read during card games, and he knows that Solonius apparently has gotten good at reading Barca too. “He is comely,” Barca says, trying to keep his voice even but knowing it has risen in pitch just a bit.

“Would you like to see him naked?” Solonius asks.

Barca sputters a reply, and Solonius signals for Pietros to remove his garments. “And turn around slowly,” he directs. “Master Barca would like to see everything.”

Pietros removes his clothing, standing naked except for the leather collar around his neck. He slowly pivots.

Barca has seen his share of naked men before. But again, there is just something about Pietros that he cannot take his eyes from. Sure, his form is attractive, he is slender but with pleasing hints of muscles in his thighs and arms and chest. And sure, Barca would like to get his hands on that adorable rear end of his. Barca continues to wonder as he gazes at Pietros, before his mind seizes upon a thought. Vulnerability. That is what Barca likes about Pietros. He intuits that Pietros is hiding a delicate nature underneath his bravado and flirting. Barca’s rational mind talks back to him: _Of course he’s vulnerable, you idiot. He’s s a slave. Forced to stand naked but for his collar right now. His owner can have him sent to the mines or beaten on a whim. Do not forget that._

“Could you not have words with your brother?” Barca asks Solonius. “Perhaps he is getting tired of Pietros.” Again he wishes for his voice to sound casual but knows it has risen in pitch.

Solonius laughs again. “You men who are into other men, there is always something so entertaining about how passionate you become when you are smitten! I must be fortunate that I stir for women only.” And then, sobering up to answer the question, he adds, “I do not think Octavius will want to change his arrangement. My brother likes routine.” He tilts his head and raises his eyebrows, “But my brother knows that I am a businessman. If you would agree to pay me 20 denari per week, I would switch the arrangement from Octavius to you. He would be angry with me but eventually he would let it go. I am the elder brother, after all.”

“For 20 denari each week, I may as well just purchase him and have him as often as I want,” Barca says, leaning forward in his seat.

“He is not for sale though,” Solonius replies simply. He then glances at Pietros and orders, with the wave of a hand, “Put your clothing back on.”

Pietros begins to dress, though he does not make haste to do so, nor does he turn eyes from Barca.

But Barca is forcing his mind in the direction of Solonius right now. He has dealt with Solonius enough to have an idea of the man’s mind and how it operates. Business is like a dance, and it is as if Solonius moves merrily upon the dance floor right now.

“Perhaps it is for the better,” Barca answers with the faintest of shrugs. “I would not be so foolhardy to just throw coin around when I do not even know if I would like bedding him. Performing fellatio well is a skill that most slaves do not possess. So I do not think I’d sign on to any arrangement requiring 20 denari each week.”

“When men buy horses or chariots, they often take them for a test ride. I would allow you to…test ride Pietros. But it would not be cheap, my friend. Fifty denari.” Solonius lifts his wine glass to his lips.

“That is insane! You do know that I can go to a whorehouse and spend one or two coins on a whore, do you not?” Barca hopes he and his deep voice sound forceful.

“You could,” Solonius answers. “But you are known to avoid them for some reason,” he adds, waving a finger. “Aversion to disease, perhaps? Or a certain pickiness, I wonder? I have noticed how particular you are when it comes to food and clothing, and even the way you style your hair.”

True on both counts, yes, Barca silently admits, but mostly it is a fondness for delicate things. Delicate things which cannot be found inside a brothel.

Barca touches a hand to his eyes, knowing he has given too much away over the years during his dealings with this Roman. He resolves to be as unyielding as marble today. He and Solonius go on to bargain back and forth as if two men sparring. At long last they agree upon an arrangement. For 50 denari, Barca will be allowed to test ride Pietros twice. Solonius will even throw in a bottle of wine.

The first test will be tonight.

***

“Pietros,” Solonius orders, once he and Barca have come to agreement. “Bathe yourself and then wait for Master Barca outside of the guest room. You will be his until morning.”

“Dominus,” Pietros answers with a slight bow. He then forces himself to take his time leaving the room, giving one last look at Barca before turning towards the door.

As Pietros bathes, he has to hope that he has been right about Barca. Wordlessly flirting with the man over the past few weeks has been enjoyable. It has been thrilling to see the tall, bulky man almost come undone at a wink or at a hand lingering upon arm for a few seconds. And is Barca really parting with 50 denari just to lie with him twice?? (And for a bottle of wine, but Pietros has to smirk at that. Solonius doesn’t actually enjoy wine and never spends more than three denari on a bottle unless he is entertaining his betters and needs to shell out for the expensive stuff). Pietros can’t question Barca’s business skills; the man is clearly becoming prosperous…and yet still he concludes that Barca really wants him and is willing to throw coin around to get him.

But as Pietros towels himself off, he has to also admit that he himself has come undone a bit too. He wants Barca’s hands upon him. He wants to touch those shoulders and arms which appear to have been sculpted by the gods themselves. He wants to continue watching the look on Barca’s face, the one where he is like a hungry dog salivating over a dripping bone.

Pietros has done his share of gambling with Solonius’ other slaves, and he wins often enough. He just has to hope this gamble was a smart one. Looking at and listening to Barca over the past few weeks, Pietros has come to believe that although Barca might look like marble, there is more silk than marble there. More of a pigeon than a hawk.

 _Or perhaps I am wrong, just a lust-struck fool,_ he tells himself. But who could blame him? The sole man who has laid hands on him, Octavius, is dull, boring, and pasty – and half the time unable to either get or stay hard no matter what Pietros does. Upon his mat at night, Pietros fantasizes about Barca. There is a man who will have no such problems. There is a man who both demands and begs to be pleased – and to provide pleasure.

 _‘Or – again – you might just be a lust-struck fool, Pietros_ ,’ the young man tells himself.

Pietros has been standing outside of the guestroom for just a minute or two when he hears footsteps and sees Barca approach. He carries the promised bottle of wine from Solonius and two cups. They enter the room. It is a well-appointed guestroom with a fresco upon the wall, a large bed with quality bedding, and a rug imported from Persia. As Pietros pours Barca a cup, Barca insists that Pietros enjoy a cup of his own too. And just like that, the two men are sitting, drinking wine and looking out the window at the courtyard.

Pietros knows that he has attributes other than being comely, and he intends to use them now. He has overheard Octavius and Solonius refer to him as charming. Upon many an occasion when Octavius is unable to harden, Pietros entertains the man with a story or a massage or even a dance or a song. (He is not as confident with his singing, but knows his skills in all the other areas are notable). And whatever is going to happen here tonight, clearly Barca does not want to just get right down to business. If he did, they wouldn’t be sitting here drinking wine and admiring the mosaic on Solonius’ fountain outside.

The conversation flows as easily as the wine. Pietros asks Barca a bit about where he is from and his business ventures. He doesn’t pry but he shows sincere interest, watching Barca closely as he answers. He learns that Barca hasn’t too much interest in talking about his work as a butcher, but he loves talking about his birds. It’s a subject that Pietros hasn’t thought too much about, so he asks several questions. Barca asks Pietros a bit about himself as well, but that aspect is harder given Pietros’ status as a slave. They both know that Pietros rarely leaves Solonius’ villa, isn’t really permitted to have hobbies, and has just the vaguest idea of his ancestors’ homeland. Pietros does mention the gambling that he and the other slaves partake in, and Barca appears very eager to offer some advice.

“Well then,” Barca says, perhaps noting that Pietros has just finished his second cup of wine. “Shall we take to bed? You are not trying to delay the proceedings, are you?”

“Not at all,” Pietros answers, meeting Barca’s eyes. He then lets his gaze travel lower. “I am in fact eager to suck the cock of a man as gorgeous as you.”

“My goodness, you are even more bold than I guessed after the first time I laid eyes upon you! None of my father’s slaves dared speak the way you do.”

Pietros is uncertain whether Barca is seriously affronted or whether this is part of the game, but he knows where he would place his wager. “My apologies, Master Barca,” he smiles. “I shall refrain from mentioning how appealing to the eye you are or how eager I am to remove my clothing. Perhaps you prefer me to cower under the sheets like a virgin and beg you not to hurt me.”

Barca chuckles and then stands up. “If you are eager to remove your clothing, please do so. Now. And then join me upon the bed.”

What follows next is simply wondrous. In his lifetime, Pietros’ experience in the bedroom could be summed up with being groped, fondled, and sometimes fucked by Octavius. But Barca treats him tonight as if he is his lover - as if he is his treasure. The larger man touches every inch of him, strokes him, kisses him, and teases him – and seems to delight in Pietros’ every reaction. Barca’s touch is confident and firm and yet shockingly gentle, at least at first. At one point, Barca’s hands are on Pietros’ cock, working it with vigor, and Pietros has to say, “Master Barca, please cease or I am going to spill!”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Barca murmurs in his ear. His hand starts to move just a bit faster.

Pietros’ reply is a loud moan, knowing he’s lost control, letting his release overtake him.

After that, Barca smiles and Pietros licks his lips. He knows it is time to show Barca what he can do and he looks forward to doing so. However, when he reaches his goal, he nearly gasps. The room is dimly lit from the oil lamps. Yes, he and Barca have been touching and kissing and pressing sweaty bodies together for quite some time already – but Pietros doesn’t really see how large Barca’s cock is until his hands are upon it and he’s ready to start licking the tip. He has to stifle his reaction. Pietros has never been with any man other than Octavius. Barca’s length and thickness make Octavius’ cock seem like two or three puny dates stuck together in comparison. Barca paid for two nights with Pietros. If he doesn’t intend to fuck him tonight, surely he intends to on their next tryst. Pietros has simply no idea how to fit this inside his ass. There is a jar of oil placed thoughtfully on the nightstand, and Pietros wishes that it would vanish and remain forgotten.

As Pietros gets to work applying his mouth and gripping Barca’s length with his hand, he has to hope that his trepidation is not evident. He also has to hope that Barca will be well-satisfied tonight with lips and tongue – aided greatly by hand since there is no way this entire thing is going down his throat - and has a long refractory period or is in need of much sleep. When Pietros is able to relax a bit, he enjoys sucking off Barca, enjoys the man’s grunts, and enjoys Barca’s hands all over his body as he tends to him. Barca gives him ample warning before his release and is not at all quiet with his grunts and groans.

Afterwards, Pietros does as he does for Octavius, offering to bring him cloths and to pour another cup of wine. Barca accepts, and then pulls Pietros close to him.

“Well?” Barca asks. “You were eager to get your clothing off and to suck cock. Tell me about it.” One of his hands gently plays with Pietros’ curls.

“Is it not more important to know what **you** thought of the experience?” Pietros asks. Although he is still disquieted at Barca’s size, his nervousness is fading a bit. Barca’s touch has been luscious and delicious, and right now Pietros feels as good as any slave ever has. Plus his head is resting against one of Barca’s shoulders, and he is enjoying those shoulders as much as he thought he would.

“I will say that I can see why Octavius pays a weekly fee for you,” Barca says simply.

Pietros smiles. “I will take that to mean you were well-satisfied. As I clearly was too.” He pauses and turns his head a bit. “What I cannot understand is why you need to **pay** for sex. Our village is large, and we are but a few hours’ trek from an even larger metropolis. Surely there is a man who wishes to…partner with you as if husband? Or if not as husband, there must be a friend who would enjoy doing this with you - absent the exchange of coin!”

Barca shifts a bit so he is looking up towards the ceiling. After a bit he answers. “There are a few reasons. My lover Auctus died three years ago and I haven’t wanted to replace him.” He then turns his head and smiles, “And your dominus is right. I am choosy. Most men prefer women, and of the small group who truly prefer men, I simply haven’t found one I cared about like Auctus.”

“My condolences for your loss.”

They remain speaking for a bit until first Barca and then Pietros drift off to sleep. Pietros is used to rising with the sun, and as soon as the first hints of light poke through the window, he plants a kiss on the sleeping Barca’s cheek and begins his day.

***

Barca returns, as agreed upon, a week later. The night is a rainy, cold, windy one. When he and Solonius have finished with their dinner and business discussions, Barca is ushered to the same guest room as before, where Pietros stands outside like last time. They enter the room, they sit by the window, they drink wine just as they did a week ago.

“On a cold night like this, I would have a warmer drink,” Barca says.

“I could fetch hot water and tea leaves,” Pietros offers, shifting his gaze towards the door. “I believe the blanket is a warm one, but I could fetch another.”

Barca shakes his head. “No need. We will manage.”

They continue to talk, Pietros asking him about his week. But Barca can see that something is different. The cheeky, playful Pietros of last week is subdued. He still smiles and says all of the right things, but Pietros keeps giving away the fact that he is nervous. His tongue keeps licking his teeth and he sometimes clutches the armrest on his chair though his behavior last week was absent these hints.

“More wine?” Barca offers.

Pietros accepts, cupping the vessel within both hands.

Barca asks Pietros about his week, hoping to uncover what might be behind Pietros’ hesitation. Pietros answers but does not reveal any jarring or upsetting event. Barca wonders if Pietros’ worry might truly be what he suspects it is. So at last, he simply asks, “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” Pietros says, glancing down at his cup.

“Give voice to concerns,” Barca says. “You know me well enough to know that I am not a beast. I would hear what you have to say.”

“I…” Pietros swallows and again looks down at his cup. And then the question is asked, the words tumbling out quickly. “Did any of your lovers in the past have difficulty taking you inside their bodies?”

Barca fights his urge to answer with the good-natured chuckle he instinctively wishes to give. “One or two balked at it at first,” he answers at first. “But there are ways to deal with it. I hope Octavius has not been a brute with you.”

“He has not. We always used oil,” he says, glancing at the jar on the nightstand. “He always went slowly. But he…well, let us say that you are very large!” With that last statement, although Pietros is slightly blushing he does sound once more like the plucky boy Barca first met.

“I certainly would never do otherwise. I cannot imagine even attempting it absent oil – or absent restraint.” He pauses. “And there are still other ways to make it easier as well.”

“These I am ignorant of. Perhaps you could….speak of them?” Pietros asks. Barca notices that he is leaning forward a bit in his chair, no longer clutching the armrest.

“Do you know what a dildo is?” When Pietros shakes his head, Barca continues, “It is a replica of a cock, usually made of leather or glass or ivory. We could find those that are….of a size larger than Octavius but smaller than me. We could use them slowly, over a period of time. To help you adjust and prepare.”

“I would like that,” Pietros smiles. “A lot. Gratitude,” he says, with a slight exhale.

And then Pietros purses his lips together. “But – well, I thought tonight was to be our last night together?”

“I will see what I can do. I have a few ideas,” Barca says. In actuality, Barca has thought of nothing else the past week other than how to purchase Pietros. He just needs a few business deals and one gambling wager to come to fruition.

“Now please, cease worrying,” Barca continues, voice rich as he reaches for one of Pietros’ hands. “I am not going to harm you or force your body to do something that it cannot. I would rather we enjoy each other.”

Barca, of course, means what he says. As much as he has enjoyed the saucy Pietros that he has glimpsed before, he also loves this gentle Pietros, the one who needs reassurance and a caring hand. In fact, he can scarcely wait to take care of him, to hold him, to show him his nurturing side. This was something he could never quite do with Auctus; Barca loved the man but Auctus never needed or wanted anything other than the tough or even rough side of Barca. Barca leads Pietros to the bed, eager to kiss him, caress him, show him that he is safe. He will be taken care of.

And, in fact, just a few weeks later, Barca and Solonius are signing the paperwork and Pietros leaves the villa with Barca.

***

**TBC**

**And like I said, I promise a return to Nagron very soon! As always, each comment is lovingly savored.**


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the penultimate chapter!

* * *

“Agron. Do you think you might light that candle? It has flickered out.”

“Very well.”

At Nasir’s request, Agron slides from the bed and uses one of the other candles to light the one that has died. He is uncertain why Nasir wants it lit since they are preparing for sleep, but he fulfills the request nonetheless.

“Agron,” Nasir begins again. “Could you bring my shirt to me? It is on the floor. Over there.”

“Of course,” Agron answers. He bends down, picks up the shirt, and hands it to Nasir before eagerly getting back under the covers. The night is crisp and cool, and Agron welcomes the warmth of the blankets and of Nasir’s body.

“Thank you.”

Nasir takes the shirt but, Agron notices, doesn’t put it on. In fact, in the dim light of the room Agron can see that Nasir has a playful smile upon his face. Just as the idea then dawns on Agron, Nasir continues. “Thank you,” Nasir repeats, “for providing me with more chances to view your rear end. That is what I was seeking.”

As Nasir laughs, Agron’s mouth first drops open and then turns into a snort. “You playful little….” He lets the words trail off as he once again places his body atop Nasir’s and kisses him. “So that is what you were after! I suppose it is also why you asked me to get out of the bathtub before you today too. So you could look at me and watch!”

“Could anyone blame me? You appear as handsome as Adonis surely must. And that well-formed rear end, those powerful thighs….”

“Am I nothing but a collection of body parts that appeals to your eyes?” Agron laughs again as he asks the question. He is truly delighted in Nasir’s appreciation for his looks. In fact, he finds it almost heady.

“Not only, but I would be a fool if I failed to appreciate what is in front of me,” Nasir answers. His gaze is something that Agron could only refer to as loving. His eyes then twinkle as he adds, “However if I am being too brazen, I will gladly accept any punishment from my dominus. As long as he’s open to turning around and bending down for me upon occasion.”

“Nasir!” Agron breathes. “Are you trying to see me hard again? Would you have us enjoy each other again this very night, so soon after we have both put lips and tongue to purpose?”

“I would,” Nasir admits. “I would very much like us to try.” He reaches for Agron and pulls him down so their mouths meet again.

And not long after that, the expensive jar of oil by their nightstand is being put to use. The couple has found that Nasir greatly, greatly enjoys rubbing his cock between Agron’s thighs. Agron doesn’t enjoy the reverse as much – it’s just not the right kind of stimulation for him. But Agron can tell that Nasir is in a state of ecstasy as he thrusts away, Agron facedown and Nasir atop him. The friction is just right for Nasir, and as he tells Agron as often as possible, the view suits him well too especially when they are first getting into position.

As Agron lies down and feels Nasir’s thrusts, he listens to Nasir alternate between loudly grunting and murmuring various words. Some of Nasir’s murmurings are simple, sweet words of affection and others are naughty and salacious. He enjoys feeling Nasir move faster and faster, enjoys hearing the bed itself creak along with Nasir. And as Agron had indeed predicted, he too is becoming extremely aroused once more.

***

“When I go into town tomorrow, I am also purchasing cotton to stuff into my ears at night,” Duro mutters over breakfast the next morning.

“As long as you tend to all of the items that need tending to, be my guest,” Agron replies, taking a spoonful of his porridge.

The brothers have decided that tomorrow Duro will undertake one of their journeys into the village. They need numerous supplies, including warmer clothing and shoes for Nasir. A visit to one of the wholesale buyers of their wheat wouldn’t hurt. Barca will also need to be met with to determine when he and Pietros can come to butcher their cattle – and no doubt Barca will want an update on the repayment of the loan. But most importantly for Duro, there is a barn-raising that evening and he really wants to go and have some fun. Duro will need to stay in the village overnight since it will be too dark and too late by the time the barn-raising is over. It’s too cold for Duro to sleep outside under the wagon, but he assumes he will run into either Spartacus and Sura or Crixus and Naevia at the barn-raising and they will offer a floor for him to pass the night upon. Both brothers especially enjoy the company of Spartacus and Sura whom they have known since they were all children. Agron finds Crixus grating at times.

“Perhaps I can also find an expert in the cultivation of olive trees so we can grow and press our own olives,” Duro adds with a smirk. “We seem to be running quite low on oil.”

“Indeed,” Agron says, deciding not to play along with Duro’s sarcasm. “Shall we go over your list again of everything that needs doing in town?” he asks, forthright.

“No. I have the list. You know I spend my life working off of your task lists, brother.”

“Quite right, as you should.”

Duro soon sets out for the village, and Agron and Nasir go about the endless work of the farm.

***

Mid-day the following day, Agron and Nasir are replacing the straw for the cattle when they hear the clop of the horses. Eager to catch up with Duro, they meet him in the stable and work to secure the horses and wagon.

As Duro gives his report, Agron notices that he is unusually animated. The trip seems to have gone well, and Agron is satisfied with everything Duro tells him. Nasir is very appreciative of the new clothing and shoes, and all of it looks as if it will fit well. The meeting with the wheat purchaser was productive, and Barca and Pietros will arrive in the middle of the following week for the butchering.

“And I…met a woman at the barn-raising,” Duro concludes.

“I knew there was a reason you look so happy!” Agron smiles. “I truly didn’t think it had to do with the purchase of the scythe or the agreement on how much extra meat Barca will take as repayment.”

“Tell us everything,” Nasir insists. Agron is glad that Nasir seems to feel comfortable speaking whenever he wants to.

“Her name is Chadara. Her hair is light as fresh straw and her eyes are bright and clear. And she is of quite a form! We spent hours together, sometimes dancing, sometimes sitting and enjoying the cider. She is sweet though not at all shy. Her father is a blacksmith.”

Duro goes on to share more about Chadara. As Agron listens to Duro and sees the excitement on his brother’s face, he knows there is an underlying sadness too. Duro seems as if he really wants to be with this woman, together with her, not just in her bed. And they both know that Duro has no means to keep a wife. Chadara’s blacksmith father is surely not going to allow her to pursue anything that cannot lead to marriage.

When they break for dinner, Duro again speaks of Chadara, eagerly sharing his every interaction with her. “She even told me that I danced well,” he adds. “I cannot believe it.”

“Does she…have brothers and sisters?” Agron asks.

“She has two brothers – and three younger sisters.”

“The sisters…are they close to her in age or much younger?

“One was there at the dance with her, so I would guess that she is very close in age. As for the others,” Duro glances upwards as if remembering, “I think they are not too young. Based on how she described them, they cannot be too far behind her in age either.”

Agron nods. Tradition does not allow younger sisters to be married before older ones. So it appears that Chadara is the eldest girl, and three other young women are left unable to marry until Chadara does so. Her father is a blacksmith, with his two sons as apprentices. Unmarried daughters of marriageable age are often considered burdens to household finances and can be pressed or forced to marry off as soon as possible.

Agron knows that Duro knows all of this. He sees Nasir glance from one brother to the other. “Does it mean that Chadara’s sisters cannot marry until she does?” Nasir asks. “It was that way with my former dominus’ family.” He glances downwards. “Pressure on Drusilla, the elder of the two daughters, to marry so that the younger Priscilla could soon follow.”

“Yes,” Duro answers, and with that one word he conveys sorrow and resignation. “Chadara will need to marry soon. To a man who has his own home and his own means of supporting a family.” He pauses and adds, “So – not me.”

“I do not know the ways of the village,” Nasir begins. “But perhaps all is not lost. Perhaps she is close to her father and he is not eager to see her gone. Perhaps she could wait a few years – enough time for a cottage to be built here for you and her.”

“We already work sunup to sundown,” Duro answers, not unkindly. “We have the skills to build a cottage, but no time. We have debt to pay off and we are not getting ahead.”

“That is true. But Nasir is right as well,” Agron says. “At the very least, perhaps you could find out more information. A…another trip to the village, perhaps with an excuse to visit the blacksmith. Maybe if he met you and knew that you were serious, and just in need of more time. Plenty of people are short of coin now, which might mean that neither Chadara nor her sisters are deluged with suitors.” He takes a breath and adds, “And you yourself might want to interact with Chadara again to be sure that she is the one for you.”

“There is another barn-raising in three weeks,” Duro supplies. “People are so tired of the doldrums of this weather and eager to socialize. Perhaps I can find out more then.”

***

Barca and Pietros arrive on their scheduled day the following week. It is later in the day than expected, but no matter. They will do as they always do and stay the night; the butchering can be performed early the next morning. Agron is always pleased with their work, they are efficient and careful, and as Duro told Chadara last week, “The animals on our farm have only one bad day.”

As Agron assists them in securing their horses, he takes another look. “Pietros,” Agron says, his mouth open. “Your leather collar is gone!”

“Yes,” Pietros says straightforwardly, with a pat against his bare neck. “I am a free man now.” He adds, with a tenderness to his voice, “You were always one of the people who treated me with respect despite my having been a slave. And I thank you for it.”

“Come,” Barca says, lightly slapping Agron on the shoulder. “We shall tell you everything at dinner. When we’re away from the chill outside and sitting down to our bread and wine.”

Agron is eager to hear the story, even knowing that Barca will make quite a dent in their supply of both bread and wine. He is so curious that he almost forgets to be wary of Barca possibly eyeing Nasir. Back when they first made their arrangements for the loan, Barca had expressed interest in seeing ‘this slave who has so captivated you’. Agron does not like remembering that.

Once dinner is heated, the five men are at last around the table, eating and drinking.

“It was simple,” Barca explains. “I decided to free Pietros.”

“Is such a thing possible?” Nasir asks.

Barca exchanges a quick look with Agron as if to question whether his slave is permitted to speak so freely and whether Barca can answer directly. Agron nods.

“It is,” Barca answers. “But it is costly. I had to travel to the magistrate’s office and pay 500 denari.”

“ _Five hundred denari?_ ” Agron asks. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Nasir put his fork down. The amount is truly stunning.

“Yes. All for a piece of paper signed by two lawmen confirming that Pietros is now a free man.”

“Barca also gave me 75 denari,” Pietros says, with a small smile and tilt of the head. “But that part is not required by law.”

“I came to realize,” Barca says, “that I no longer liked the fact that I owned the man I claimed to love. I no longer wished to be with someone who was absent choice.” He shrugs and then turns to Pietros and smiles warmly. “So I handed him the piece of paper and the 75 denari and told him he was free to go.”

“And I wasn’t even aware that he was going to do this!” Pietros adds with a chuckle. He, too, takes another sip of the wine. “Took me by surprise.”

“I went to bed that night knowing that he might not be there when I woke up,” Barca says. “And yet he is still here!“

Agron is leaning forward in his seat, intent upon hearing every word. “And I take it you have no regrets?” Agron asks Barca.

“None at all. In fact, I feel far happier.”

“Five hundred denari,” Agron muses, his voice far away now. The sum is so staggering that he has to repeat it.

“For that amount of money, brother, we could hire a man to build a cottage for Chadara and me,” Duro says. His voice is not at all wistful and is, in fact, quite firm. “A large cottage.”

“This was five months ago,” Pietros adds. “With the inflation the large cities are experiencing, the price of freeing a slave has surely gone up now.”

“What you did is quite commendable, Barca,” Duro says. “I think few people would do that. The risk of the man leaving would be far too great.”

At first Agron is surprised to hear Duro so firmly inserting himself into the conversation. But he soon suspects where Duro’s thoughts are going.

“I knew it was a risk,” Barca says, reaching for the bottle and pouring himself more. Agron knows that there won’t be enough wine left for their usual two-cup Sunday. “But as I said, the situation could not continue the way it was.”

“I’ve heard that many a man spends his whole life with…well a mistress who is also his slave,” Duro presses. “Some of them even consider themselves to be husband and wife. They bring their children to family gatherings and are treated as if any other couple even though the woman has a collar around her neck.”

Barca shrugs. “If they are happy with it, then so be it. But as I said, the arrangement no longer suited me. And Pietros is happier, so I am happier.”

“Yes,” Pietros says, placing a hand atop Barca’s. “I am happier. I no longer need to fear what might happen should Barca – gods forbid it! – fall ill or even pass away. I do not have to fear his relatives appearing from far away and claiming me.” He pauses and then adds, his voice very firm, “And I assure you that every man – and woman – desires freedom. Even those of us born into slavery. Each and every one of us wants to be free, most of us crave it every moment of every day.”

“I thought I heard that many men make arrangements to free a favorite slave upon their death. So when the master dies, the slave is freed,” Duro insists.

“Duro, enough!” Agron says. “They are happy with what happened. Leave it at that. And needless to add, let’s hope that all of us sitting around this table are blessed by the gods with long life!” He uses all of his willpower to keep from saying more, though he knows the exasperated look he is giving Duro now is communicating it all well enough.

“I will get us more bread,” Nasir says, standing up and heading for the pantry.

Agron watches Nasir get up and return with the bread. The two of them have never discussed this topic. Agron has never asked Nasir if he would stay with him if he were to someday be free. But there is no reason to even ask it. Agron has always known that there is a cost paid to the magistrate to free a slave, and always known that whatever it is, he cannot afford it. (Though 500 denari truly is higher than his worst fears). He would like to believe that had Nasir a choice, he would choose to remain. But Agron is absent the coin to test that, and he suspects he is absent the courage too, at least for now.

A little while later, Pietros is laying out his and Barca’s bedding upon the floor of the main room. Nasir is nearby, coaxing the fireplace along.

“Agron. A word with you.” Barca’s voice is barely above a whisper, and he tilts his head towards the pantry.

Agron’s thoughts have been solely on the topic of purchasing freedom for a beloved slave, so when he steps into the pantry with Barca, he assumes that is what the older man wants to discuss. And thus Agron is taken aback again today when Barca speaks.

“I see why you needed to purchase Nasir. He is beautiful.”

Agron’s jaw opens, and then closes a second later. He nods mutely.

“Perhaps the four of us could…enjoy each other’s company tonight,” Barca continues. “I don’t know if Duro is part of it as well, but he is welcome too if you and he—“

“No!” Agron snaps back. He again forces himself to calm down. His instinct is to fight or punch Barca while making a remark about ‘fucking Carthaginians’. But Agron has to clamp down his fury. He owes Barca a sizable sum still, and getting enraged here would be disastrous. “Apologies for my outburst. But no, no, Duro and I never….take Nasir to bed at the same time. And truly - it is bad enough that I have to share Nasir with Duro. I cannot imagine wanting to see him in another man’s arms!” He adds, “Again, apologies; I hope I have not offended you.”

“Not at all.” Barca smiles and taps Agron’s chest. “Your devotion to your boy is admirable. Perhaps someday you, too, will have enough coin to free him.”

Agron takes a breath. A discussion of money is far more welcome than a discussion of sex at this point, and he grabs at any chance to ensure they avoid anything relating to the idea of sharing Nasir. “We should break words about repayment of the loan. We –“

“Let’s wait until tomorrow when Pietros and I have finished the butchering,” Barca says with a wave of his hand. “I am content to do as I discussed with your brother when he was in town last week. We can take extra meat as repayment. We are in no hurry.”

***

Meanwhile, Pietros and Nasir work together near the fireplace to get Barca and Pietros’ bedding ready and ensure the fireplace roars strongly enough to keep them warm.

“Master Pietros,” Nasir begins, his voice just above a whisper. “I would break words with you.”

“Please. Just call me Pietros,” the former slave insists.

“You are a free man,” Nasir responds. “Tradition dictates that I cannot address you by only your name.”

“You can if I insist upon it. But please. Tell me what it is what you would break words about. Is it the subject of freedom?” Pietros asks, following Nasir’s lead and being careful to keep his voice at a whisper. Agron and Barca are speaking in the kitchen, and Duro is bathing inside the washroom. But still, sounds can carry.

“No,” Nasir shakes his head and then bites his lip. “Bedroom business.”

“My favorite topic,” Pietros says, raising both eyebrows. “Well, one of them. Go on.”

Knowing that they do not have much time for privacy, Nasir gets his question out quickly, absent hesitation. “My dominus and I…have not yet been able to attempt cock in ass. We fear he is too large. I wondered if you had any suggestions.”

“Good, that shows that he cares about you and does not wish to see you torn asunder! I am glad to hear that he has not rushed you in this way.” His expression sobering up, Pietros adds, “I had the same fear with Barca, and we found ways to make it work - thus I do have some ideas for you.”

“Thank the gods. I would hear them.”

***

The following morning starts as early as every other day on the farm. Nasir prepares enough porridge to feed five men, and Pietros shares apples that he and Barca brought for the group. The first meal of the day is always a quick one, with so many tasks to follow for the next ten or fourteen hours. But since Barca and Pietros are guests, the group does slow down a bit and talk.

And then Barca mentions something about a city called Sinuessa.

“Sinuessa?” Nasir asks, speaking for the first time during the meal. “Pardon me, Master Barca, but that is the city I am told my brother is in. Last I heard of him, he was sold to a man in Sinuessa.”

“It is very far to the south,” Barca says. “A warm climate. I assume you wish to have word regarding him? What do you know of his owner?”

“I was told that his purchaser was a man named Ulpianus. This was perhaps ten or twelve years ago. Before that he was sold to a son-in-law of my former dominus,” Nasir answers. He then adds, “And yes, if I could just get word that he is well….”

“I do not know of Ulpianus,” Barca says. “But we deal often with a man named Lugo, and he travels to Sinuessa upon occasion,” he says, popping an apple slice into his mouth.

Pietros leans forward in his seat. “What else can you tell us? How old is your brother and what is his name? Does he look like you?”

“I cannot even recall what he looks like,” Nasir says, looking downwards. He feels Agron place a hand over his. “It has been so long since he was sold to Marcus’ son-in-law, and we were just children then. I have no idea if he grew to be taller than I or if his hair is lighter.” He continues, “His name is Farid. He is older than I, so he must be in his middle twenties now, I think.”

“Did he have any scars or birthmarks?” Barca asks.

“No. Marcus never branded his slaves. I don’t know if his son-in-law did so.”

Pietros says, “We will ask Lugo to make some inquiries. Just be aware that this is not easy. We have been trying to find my mother for years now, long before Barca freed me. And all we ever get are dead ends. And betrayal,” Pietros adds, his voice taking on an angry tone that Nasir has not heard from him before. “We once paid a sum to a man named Asher, a man who we thought had enough connections to come up with an answer or at least some strong leads. But he took our coin and disappeared.”

“When I get my hands on that rat-fuck…” Barca groans, fist clenched. He then turns to Pietros and his voice softens. “We will find her, Pietros. Somehow.” And then turning to Nasir he adds, “And we will do our best to obtain word on Farid.”

Agron takes a breath. “What sort of system is this, that we live under? Separating mother from child and brother from brother. All in the name of greed.”

“A very rotten one,” Barca answers. “Though of course if you ask most slave owners they will shrug and say that the gods ordain it. They forget that given a twist of fate, they themselves might have been the ones enslaved. I never had a problem with it when I was younger.”

***

Duro has been looking for the right opportunity, and he finally spots it later that day, when Pietros is taking a break, leaning against a fence and drinking from a water skin. Barca has already headed into the loft to prepare for the midday meal; their work is almost finished and they will be returning to the village soon. Fortunately for Duro, Agron is nearby, so he gestures to him and asks, “Walk with me, brother?”

Agron nods, though his brow furrows a bit, and the two men approach Pietros. Duro dispenses quickly with pleasantries before asking Pietros, “If I may ask, Pietros. Now that you have freedom, is it not tempting to leave?”

Agron throws Duro a sour look, but Pietros just answers evenly. “Not at all. I know it might sound strange, but I truly love Barca. He was always kind to me, right from the start.” Smiling, he adds, “True, Barca can be…overbearing at times. Like a force of nature.” He shrugs, “But every man has his flaws and I am not tempted to leave. And I believe that deep down he always knew I was not going to do so. Even with the 75 denari!”

Duro opens his mouth as if to say more, but then closes it. Agron touches his arm firmly and says, “Come. It is time for the midday meal.”

“I will be there in just a minute,” Pietros says. “Please go on ahead.”

As Agron and Duro walk back to the loft, Agron again grips Duro’s arm. “What was the meaning of that? You know that we have not the coin to free Nasir, so you know that I am not contemplating it!”

“I just needed to make sure that you are not getting any strange ideas. Freeing Nasir or paying money to try to find his brother.” Duro’s voice is steady and free of passion.

Yet Agron stops in his tracks anyway. He looks at Duro. “As I have said, we have not the coin. But,” he pauses and then continues, “what if it were you and I separated and enslaved? Would you not wish for help from a kind hand? Would you not wish for word that I was alive and well?”

“I would. But Barca is far wealthier than we ever shall be. I might never be able to take to wife even if our fortunes improve a bit – and I shall **definitely** never be able to if you entertain any of….of Barca’s crazy notions!”

“Give me some credit, brother,” Agron grumbles. He takes another breath. “And keep in mind that all Barca and Pietros are doing about Farid is making some inquires. That is all. They did not ask us for coin.”

***

When their butchering is complete, Barca and Pietros depart, along with substantial repayment in the form of meat. They promise to try to learn what they can about Farid.

At the end of the day, Nasir is grateful to slide into the bathtub with Agron.

“This is surely paradise for me,” Nasir says. “A hot bath at the end of the day, with you.” The two men sit in the tub facing each other this time.

“You do seem tired,” Agron observes. “You did not even require me to put on a show; you did not bid me to bend down and search for an imaginary item on the floor for your amusement.”

“Amusement and sheer enjoyment!” Nasir says, holding up a finger. “If only you could understand how tantalizing your backside appears!” His smile then lessens as he says, “If I seem tired, you seem….preoccupied. You barely broke words at dinner. Speak - give voice to your thoughts.”

Agron looks down at the water. “I suspect I will dwell on Barca’s visit for a long time. The fact that he purchased the man he loves to set him free.” He looks at Nasir. “And that I am not able to do so.”

“Dwell upon it no more. Five hundred denari is simply out of reach. I am happy here,” Nasir says firmly.

“What if something should happen to me?” Agron asks, waving a hand in the air. “That was Pietros’ fear regarding Barca.”

“Then Duro would own me. He is a good man.”

“He is that. And yet I would see you freed, impossible as it is.”

“You may as well wish for coin to drop from the sky,” Nasir says tilting his head upwards. “Forget the subject.” He leans forward and touches Agron’s leg. “I have news on a more enticing topic.”

“Do you?” Agron asks. “I am eager to hear.”

“I asked Pietros about our other dilemma and he did indeed give advice. He said that he and Barca had the same concern.”

Nasir goes on to tell Agron about their conversation, and that Pietros said that starting with dildos helped him be able to work his way up to being able to accept something larger.

“It sounded good to me,” Nasir says. “I told him that I don’t care for fingers.” Nasir has had one finger inside himself, but he always starts to fear at the prospect of two or more fingers. Pietros had told him that sliding in one dildo might be easier than worrying about things like knuckles and fingernails and multiple fingers.

“Perhaps we could procure one then,” Agron says. “I enjoy woodworking, but let us not consider wood, as we would not want splinters there.”

“Definitely not!” Nasir says, and both men laugh. He then continues, “Pietros says the most affordable ones are leather, the most expensive ivory.”

“Perhaps we could make one out of leather,” Agron says. “Though I would not look forward to Duro’s reaction to that.”

The two men laugh again, and then Agron continues. “I have one idea,” he says, with a tilt of his head. “Something I have been thinking of for days now. Perhaps you could fuck me. I truly do not fear it, and if it goes well, it might give you courage.”

“It may – and yet it won’t make that huge cock of yours any smaller!” Nasir exclaims, and with that both men again laugh heartily. Nasir then takes hold of his own cock and adds, “This conversation is having desired result for me.”

“Me as well,” Agron says. “Not that it takes that much to make me desire you. I have only to set eyes upon you from across the field and my heart begins to stir and my loins begin to demand. Shall we to the bedroom?”

As soon as both men are toweled off, Agron does as they sometimes enjoy and carries Nasir to their room. Duro sits in the main room and gets very interested in his sewing, presumably trying to forget the sight.

Some time later, they decide to try it. They open the jar of oil and place copious amounts on Nasir’s cock, and more yet inside Agron. They decide to have Nasir lie upon his back and Agron lower himself down. They proceed very slowly. After not long, Nasir is sometimes clutching the bed sheets, sometimes clutching Agron’s thighs, trying to fight his urge to thrust upwards as if possessed. Agron is finding that he feels a bit too full, but that it is not entirely unpleasant. They both are enjoying the feeling of connection and the feeling of exploring new ground.

* * *

_Final chapter coming in about a week!_


	6. Chapter Six

_**Epilogue/Chapter Six** _

* * *

**Six months later**

Agron is on his way to town. He makes the trip alone today, leaving Duro and Nasir back on the farm, working as always. Having left at first light, he grips the reins and urges the horses to move faster. There is much to be done during today’s trip – a potential new wheat buyer to meet with, endless supplies to be purchased, and meetings with Barca and with Chadara’s father.

Duro has journeyed into town twice during the past six months. The first trip was for the other barn-raising. He and Chadara again were inseparable and again confirmed their desire to remain together, to marry. Duro’s second trip had been to meet with Chadara’s father. Her father had been clear that he wanted her married within six months, and they shook hands on it.

That was three months ago.

As Agron navigates another bump on the road, he remembers his last conversation with Nasir on the subject that has been on their minds ceaselessly.

***

_They last broke words on it but a few weeks ago._

_“Forget thoughts of freeing me,” Nasir had urged. “Let us instead put coin towards cottage for Duro and Chadara.” He took a breath and added, adamantly, “Whether I am free man or slave, my place is forever by your side.”_

_“It is the **concept** ,” Agron said, shaking his head. “The very idea that I own the man I claim to love.”_

_Nasir looked down and smiled, and then took a step closer to Agron. “So you do love me.”_

_“Of course I do,” Agron said passionately, locking eyes with Nasir. “With all my heart and soul. I think ever since we first locked eyes and kissed each other, back at Marcus’ place.”_

_“As I love you,” Nasir proclaimed, putting his hands on Agron’s chest and tilting his head up._

_After Nasir was finished kissing Agron, he continued, “I overheard what Duro said to you the other day, and he is not wrong. That your only problem is that you dislike this concept of ownership. His problem is far worse. He cannot marry; he cannot bring wife and then children into our small loft. And his time is running out – ours is not.”_

_Agron nodded. “And he has been quite agreeable. Keeping his hands off of you.”_

_Agron had been thrilled the day when Duro had casually mentioned that he would no longer ask Nasir to his bedroom. Duro had added that he saw how happy the two of them were together and no longer wished to be in the middle of it._

_“He mentioned that you are happy and I am happy, and he was right,” Nasir concluded. “Now let us think about how we can fix the situation so that Duro can marry.”_

***

Agron arrives at Barca’s tavern first. Pietros greets him warmly and then ushers him into Barca’s office.

“Agron!” Barca says, getting up and gripping Agron’s forearm in a gesture of greeting. “You just missed Lugo. He was in town last week with word of your boy’s brother!”

“Please, tell me everything!” Agron exclaims, both excited and nervous. He hopes the news will be good.

“Lugo visited Ulpianus, and Farid is indeed one of his slaves still! He brought the young man out, though only briefly,” Barca recounts. “Lugo said that Farid appeared well and healthy, and was delighted to have word of his brother. Farid asked that Lugo tell Nasir that he loves him and that he is well.”

“These words lift my heart, and will lift Nasir’s as well!” Agron says.

“Yes.” Barca’s eyes cloud over for a second. “Lugo did add that when Farid turned to go back to his work, he could see faded scars upon his back. The whip. Sinuessa is warm, and most slaves there wear little, so he could see the scars well. Lugo said they looked old and faded, and perhaps they were at the hands of his previous dominus. But they were there.” He pauses. “I leave you to determine whether or not to share that with Nasir.”

Agron nods gravely. “Did Lugo say….what sort of man Ulpianus is?”

“He does not truly know him or his heart. He has met him only once or twice before in passing. However, he asked a few others and they all described him as kind and mild.” Barca pauses. “So if that is true, then those whip marks must be from his previous dominus.”

“I hope that is the case.” Agron suggests, “Perhaps next time I see you, I could bring you something to give to Lugo to take to Farid. A gift.”

“Be careful that it is not something of value. Most owners will take the gifts for themselves,” Barca says straightforwardly.

Agron thinks. “Nasir loves to draw. Perhaps he can make a drawing for his brother.”

Barca nods. “Lugo said one more thing. That Ulpianus’ business seems to be doing well. He did not appear as a man desperate or even eager to sell a slave. Sometimes owners will unload a slave for little coin when they have fallen on hard times, but Lugo was adamant that does not seem to be the case with Ulpianus.”

Agron nods, and soon finds himself onto his next order of business for his trip.

***

“I told your brother that I would see Chadara married off within six months. That was three months ago. How goes progress on the cottage?”

Chadara’s father, Ealhstan, stands before Agron. He is sweaty and he wears a heavy apron, having been taken from his work to speak with Agron. He accepted Agron’s gift, a variety of vegetables from their small vegetable patch, but that has not deterred him from directly asking the question.

“I must be honest, Sir,” Agron answers. “We have not yet begun. Our harvest has been fruitful – as evidenced by our gift to you -- and the wheat fields alone require our every waking moment. We just sold most of our wheat to Oenomaus at a solid price.”

Agron’s boast is unacknowledged. “And yet your brother cannot provide even a one-room shack for my daughter,” Ealhstan says flatly. He looks Agron up and down. “You do know that I have three other daughters, two of whom are already of marriageable age themselves? And they cannot be married off until Chadara is.”

“I understand, Sir,” Agron says, hoping he is striking a tone somewhere between courteous and firm. “I came to ask you for more time, and to invite you and Chadara to our house for dinner.”

“I have no time for that,” Ealhstan waves a hand. “You live so far from town.” He snorts a bit as he again looks at Agron. “Do you need a wife? My next oldest girl is as beautiful as Chadara. Perhaps if you and your brother would agree to take both Chadara and Anna off my hands then I could allow a little more time for the cottage.”

“I do not seek a wife, Sir.”

Ealhstan grunts and again waves an arm, “Well, then, there’s not much to be done. Chadara tells me she wishes to marry your brother, but I have other men asking for her hand. One of them is a widower who has a younger brother long unmarried – and that brother might be able to take Anna as well. Herculeo is his name. I will tell Chadara that we will turn our attention towards Herculeo and his brother – instead of Duro’s.”

“Give me one more day,” Agron insists, his hands in front of him. “I have another idea – let me come back to you tomorrow if I am able to do it.”

***

After Agron has met with a few other business contacts and purchased the needed supplies for the farm, he is back inside Barca’s office. The tavern is loud now that it’s later in the day. As Agron walks in, he glimpses Pietros who appears to be somehow simultaneously greeting customers, speaking with the cook, and lighting oil lamps.

“I cannot leave Pietros out there alone for long,” Barca says. “We are so busy.”

“I will not require too much of your time then,” Agron says. He briefly recaps his meeting with Ealhstan.

“Whatever the case, you do not want to see Chadara wed to Herculeo. The man is a fop and a liar, and he has bedded so many prostitutes that he surely carries illness that would spread to the girl. Hmmm,” Barca says. He gives a slight tilt of his head. “I have an idea. We need help here at the tavern. We had a hired hand but he left to travel south. We have a spare room. Duro could move here, work the tavern. But,” he pauses, “the room is not large. It would be quite crowded for them, especially once they start having children. And I would pay only room and board. But you farmers are not afraid of hard work, so I have no concerns about Duro’s work ethic.”

“I don’t know if Chadara’s father would find that enticing enough,” Agron sighs. “Having his daughter live above a tavern.”

“The entrance to our personal quarters locks securely, so it is safe. It would be a job and a place to live, which is more than many men in the village have. Of course, you would be absent your brother except a few times a year when you can visit. And I easily see how close you two are.”

Agron is silent for a moment. “What about an additional loan instead?” he asks, resisting the urge to swallow. “I’ve been steadily paying off the current one. With another loan, I could hire a man or lease a slave to work on the cottage.” Agron does not relish the idea of more debt. But he wants to make this happen for Duro, and Barca’s words about Herculeo add to his resolve.

“You have been steadily making payments. But you know another loan means you will likely be in debt to me for a decade.” Barca looks at Agron’s eyes. “Some would say I am but a fool for even considering another loan to you again and at such a low rate of interest.”

“Some would. But you will do it because you have plenty of coin – and more importantly, you have a heart, Barca, as you have proven,” Agron says, meeting his gaze.

Barca smiles as if Agron has pointed out the truth of matter. He and Agron discuss terms and fall to agreement.

“By the way,” Barca says afterwards, “I must break words with you on a more pleasant topic.” Has a glint in his eyes already. “Pietros told me that when we visited last, he spoke with Nasir. About bedroom business.”

Agron refrains from retorting that apparently the tavern isn’t that busy right now after all, given that Barca is making time to bring this up. Agron loves the topic of sex, but does not love discussing it with anyone other than Nasir.

“They did. Pietros’ tips were very useful.” Agron hopes that Barca will not pry more.

“I am glad to hear that. So Nasir is enjoying being fucked?”

“He is. As am I. Receiving is far more enjoyable than I would have thought.”

Agron takes a moment to savor the way Barca’s jaw reflexively drops open. Barca closes his mouth and then opens it again, while putting a hand over his own neck. “D-do not tell Pietros that,” he manages.

“I shall not. But I truly recommend that you try it sometime. You might like it.” Agron wants to add a comment about how there are dildos Barca can use to prepare himself if Pietros is too large, but he decides against antagonizing the man whose loan – and favor - he needs. He keeps his amusement to himself as he departs.

***

**Five months later**

“I have never been to a wedding before,” Duro says.

“No, brother, we went to one but you were too young to remember. Our mother had a distant kinsman who wed when we were but children. They moved far away shortly afterwards.”

Agron, Duro, and Nasir are traveling to the village for Duro’s wedding to Chadara. The wedding is to be held in town, of course, because that is where Chadara’s friends and family reside and where the chapel is. Each man is clad in his best set of clothing. Agron and Nasir sit up front, and Duro is inside the covered wagon as there is a light drizzle and it would be best if he can avoid showing up at his own wedding wet with rain.

The cottage on Agron’s property is nearly finished. Until it is complete, Duro and Chadara will live inside the loft with Agron and Nasir. Chadara’s father visited their place a few weeks ago in order to check on the cottage’s progress and then give his final go-ahead for the union.

“What about you, Nasir?” Duro asks. “Have you ever been to a wedding?”

“No,” Nasir answers, turning his head so Duro can hear his answer. “Marcus’ daughters were both married in the village as well, and there was no reason to bring me along.” Sitting back inside the wagon, Nasir swallows and realizes his mouth is dry. “And I still worry how people will react to the presence of a slave at your wedding.”

“We will deal with anyone who might make comment,” Duro says. “I’m not getting married without you there! You mean too much to this family.”

“We shall stick to the plan,” Agron says steadily. “Stay by my side so that if anyone questions things, I shall respond.”

Duro laughs. “I pity the man on the other end of that discussion!”

Agron is silent for a moment and then speaks again. “A thought just entered my head. Can we just…remove the collar? Simply take it off?”

Nasir places a hand upon Agron’s arm. “We could….but absent signing any paperwork to release me? Would it not cause a stir?”

“How would anyone know we haven’t signed the paperwork?” Agron asks simply. “Could we just…act as if it is done?”

“People might ask whether or not paperwork has been signed. And if they do, I would not have you lie. You deal with too many people within the village to have your name tarnished,” Nasir says firmly.

“He does have a point,” Duro calls from the back of the wagon. “Someone there must have a connection to the magistrate’s office and could easily learn that you were not truthful.”

Nasir glances at Agron and sees his lover grip the horses’ reins even more tightly. Agron says, “I suppose that is right. Just remember, Duro. We put our coin towards your cottage instead of towards Nasir’s freedom or towards purchasing his brother. And I still fear what might happen should I die.”

“Brother,” Duro says, making the one word into a full sentence. “Dear brother,” he repeats. “We have broken words on this a million times before. I believe last time we spoke, we agreed that if you should die and if I should harm a hair on Nasir’s head, then your ghost would haunt me for the entirety of my mortal existence, would kill my wife and – oh yes – kill my children. That is where we left the matter.”

“And shrivel your cock and cause it to fall off. Do not forget that. That would be the first item I would attend to.”

“Dear gods, brother. Dear gods,” Duro shakes his head though neither of the other men can see it.

***

_As Duro rides in the back of the wagon, he thinks about the bond that Agron and Nasir have and he hopes it will be the same between him and Chadara. They certainly have the same raw, immediate attraction – though of course they have not been able to act upon it._

_Duro had feared that Chadara might find Agron and Nasir’s closeness unusual. And now that the four of them will be living inside the loft until the cottage is finished, Chadara will spend much time with Agron and Nasir. So when he saw her last, Duro brought the topic up._

_“I have mentioned,” Duro had begun, “that I live with my brother and our slave Nasir.”_

_Chadara nodded and replied, “Yes, and you added that you are both close to him. That Nasir is treated as a member of the family and takes meals with you.”_

_As Duro nodded, Chadara had continued, “I think that is nice. It is good to treat them with kindness and not as mere beasts of burden.”_

_“Yes,” Duro had answered. He knew he had to be more forthright. “Also…my brother and Nasir share a bed,” he blurted out, with a swallow. He would share that information, and leave the matter there. Chadara did not need to know of Duro’s own youthful experimentation with Nasir._

_“Ah,” Chadara said, with a slight blush upon her cheeks. “I have heard of that. My father sometimes deals with…a strange woman called Saxa, who I am told prefers to bed women.” She then added quickly, “I did not mean strange as an insult!” She smiled, “If your brother and Nasir are happy, then that is what stands most important.”_

_“Yes,” Duro agreed quickly._

_Chadara smiled again and added, “I suppose that is why Agron did not wish to marry my sister Anna then, when my father offered!” She and Duro shared a laugh over that, and Duro was glad that the tension had dissipated._

***

As the group assembles within the small chapel, Nasir stands towards the back. Duro, Agron, Chadara’s father Ealhstan, and the preacher discuss a few final preparations. There is little to do right now; ceremonies inside the village are always small and simple affairs. Nasir looks around and notices that the chapel has been decorated nicely. Duro had mentioned that Chadara and her sisters were rising early to see the place decorated. Nasir does not care for standing around idle – he certainly is unused to it anyway – but it does not appear that there is much to be done. The room is spotless. When the others are finished speaking, he will ask them where his assistance might be needed.

Nasir notices that Ealhstan keeps turning his head around and glancing back at Nasir. Nasir keeps his eyes on Agron and Duro to see if he is needed, but it does not appear that they wish to summon him. Agron’s facial expression, however, has gone from neutral to a frown. One of his hands has formed a fist, and the other hand comes to quietly massage the fist. Nasir knows what this means and has a good idea what has stoked Agron’s ire. He imagines how frustrated Agron must feel, not wanting to cause tension between his brother and his brother’s father-in-law. Nasir continues to watch the men and guesses that Agron is forcing himself to restraint, though not much happy about it.

At last the men break. Agron walks to the back where Nasir is standing, and he places a hand upon Nasir’s shoulder.

“Allow me to guess,” Nasir whispers. “My presence is a problem.”

As Agron takes a breath, Nasir uses the placating tone and gentle eyes that Agron enjoys. “It is alright, Agron,” he continues. “I shall remove myself.”

“I made it clear that you are to remain,” Agron says. His jaw still looks tense. “Because you are a member of this family, and because you have no way to get home anyway,” he adds with a bitter laugh. “We compromised. You are to sit in the back row. I wanted to hit the man but—“

“But you do not want to place Duro in a bad position with his bride’s father. It is okay, Agron,” Nasir insists, placing a hand upon Agron’s side. “I do not mind. Now. Is there any aspect of preparations I can assist with? I do not care to stand around idle.”

“Yes. Keep me from hitting Ealhstan.”

Nasir smiles. “You are a good brother. I’m sure Duro appreciates your restraint.”

The ceremony is soon to begin, and Nasir does indeed sit in the last row. As people file in, they glance at Nasir, their eyes alighting to his collar, and they move on without even a smile in his direction. Pietros and Barca enter, Pietros no longer a slave and able to mingle and chat freely. Most of the village seems to recognize him, perhaps because of the tavern. Nasir feels a small stab of envy.

And then the ceremony begins. Duro and Agron stand up front with Chadara and her family. Agron looks handsome, Nasir thinks, clad in his best set of clothing. If he could, he would embrace him again but he reminds himself he must wait.

Nasir looks again at Agron and Duro, two brothers standing together - as he and his own brother will likely never do.

Fate is such a strange master, Nasir muses. With a twist of the gods’ desires, it perhaps would have been Nasir and his brother standing up front as free men, while Agron and Duro toiled separately as slaves. And yet with another twist of fate in the other direction, Nasir might have perished in the mines or been sold to a brute.

Nasir does feel another cruel stab of loneliness and a stab of sorrow at being relegated to the back of the room, but he quiets them. He reminds himself how lucky he is to be here and not inside the mines. Self-pity will not get him anywhere, he knows. He tells himself that perhaps someday he will be manumitted as Pietros was, but in the meantime it is more important for Duro to be given this opportunity to wed and that Agron made the right decision about where to spend the coin. And as soon as the ceremony is finished, Agron is right back at his side which removes all remaining sadness from his heart.

Duro and his bride are overwhelmed with well-wishers as the day goes on and yet they make a point to speak to Nasir directly after the ceremony. Agron, of course, does not leave his side now that the ceremony is concluded. Pietros also comes by, speaking to Nasir, helping to remind him that he is cared for despite his lowly station. As the group breaks for feasting, Nasir is at last able to meet some of the brothers’ acquaintances like Spartacus, Sura, Crixus, and Naevia. Each of them also looks at Nasir with respect and includes him in their conversation. The memory of being relegated to the back of the room during the ceremony is already fading.

***

At the end of the long day of celebration, Duro and his new bride retire to her father’s house for the night. It is far too late for them to return to the distant farm, so Ealhstan has arranged for himself and his other children to spend the night with relatives. Duro and Chadara will have Ealhstan’s cottage to themselves on their wedding night.

“Come, stay with Sura and me for the night,” Spartacus says, putting a hand on Agron’s shoulder. “We have plenty of room and would not have you two travel during the night.”

Agron and Nasir, both exhausted from the ceremony and festivities, happily accept the offer.

Agron is especially appreciative of Spartacus’ offer; he fears that should Barca have offered his place instead, Barca might again suggest that they exchange partners for the night. Agron would never agree to it, but he is in so much debt to Barca that it could have made the situation difficult. Agron is also glad of the way Spartacus looks at Nasir and addresses him; the Thracian makes it clear that he does not view the slave as an inferior.

Although the house belonging to Spartacus, Sura, and their daughter is not a large one, it does have a warm hearth which Sura lays out bedrolls in front of. “Just wake us if you need anything,” Spartacus tells his guests, before retiring with Sura to their room where their daughter already sleeps soundly.

Despite the warm hearth, the soft bedding, and most importantly Nasir by his side, Agron finds he cannot drift off to sleep.

“Nasir,” he whispers after more time passes. “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” Nasir whispers back. “Does something trouble you?”

“You and I should marry,” Agron says. “It is all I could think of during the ceremony. I spoke with Pietros during the reception and he mentioned that in major Egyptian cities like Thebes and Alexandria, the practice was not unknown. Of two men marrying.”

“That is wonderful, Agron, but we are nowhere near Thebes or Alexandria, and I still stand a slave unable to marry anyone, man or woman.” Nasir then adds quickly, “I hasten to add that this is not a complaint and I am glad we agreed to put your coin towards the cottage for Duro and Chadara!” Nasir goes on to say, “We stand forever by each other’s sides, whether or not we can ever be considered married in the eyes of the law.”

“We should speak our commitment in front of our friends and family. Perhaps we host a large gathering and reception,” Agron insists.

“Then let us do so. Someday.”

“I still desire the papers to see you freed. And we need to find a way to get Farid. Oh, why does everything have to cost so much more coin than we will ever have?”

Nasir shifts a bit so he can place a hand upon Agron’s shoulder. “Agron. I know you wish to fix all the world’s ills. Let us leave them be for now. Put them out of our minds.” He pauses and then adds, “We are committed to each other for all time. That is something we can control and can be happy with. And at least we have knowledge that my brother is safe and well as can be for a slave.”

The two men speak a bit more until Agron is mollified and they fall to sleep.

The following morning, Sura and Spartacus insist on serving them breakfast before they head out on their way. Agron and Nasir’s normal breakfast is a standard porridge sometimes accented with fruit or spices when they have them, and so they are both excited when Sura prepares pancakes. When everyone is seated and served, Spartacus speaks.

“There is something I would share with you,” the Thracian begins. “I understand that you both wish to see Nasir freed and wish to see his brother returned.”

Agron and Nasir look at each other. “We most certainly do!” Agron says.

Spartacus glances at Sura. “Do you believe that slavery as an institution is wrong?”

“What kind of question is that?” Agron asks. “Of course we do.”

“Then perhaps you would be interested to know that there is a movement of abolitionists. And that several people you know are involved. People like Sura and myself. Crixus and Naevia. And Oenomaus, the man who purchases your grain, along with his wife. And we need others to join the effort.”

Agron and Nasir exchange a look with each other. Nasir says, “Tell us more.”

***

Four weeks after the wedding, the cottage is, at last, complete. Duro and Chadara move into it, leaving the loft just for Agron and Nasir. The two couples plan to take most of their dinners together and, of course, they constantly interact during their workday chores. But each pair now has its own dwelling.

“We no longer have to feel chagrin over Duro and Chadara hearing us at night,” Agron says as he undresses.

“Is it chagrin you were worried about, or is it more that you were irritated at hearing the two of them in bed?” Nasir teases. He lies in bed, naked and waiting for Agron.

Agron shakes his head as he smiles at Nasir. “That I will not miss. The sounds of their coupling.”

They have spoken often of what to do with the empty bedroom that used to be Duro and Chadara’s. Perhaps it can stand as a guest room, especially now since they interact more with Spartacus, Sura, Crixus and Naevia.

Suddenly Nasir shifts his gaze to the window, and as he points he exclaims, “Look over there!”

Agron easily falls for Nasir’s trick, turning to look out the window. And then a second later he realizes he’s been had. The two men laugh heartily as Agron slides into bed. “You will use any ploy to look upon my bare backside!”

“And you never fail to fall for them.” Nasir looks with adoration at Agron, pulling him down and planting a kiss upon his lips.

“Perhaps I intentionally fall for them,” Agron teases. He gently inserts his tongue into Nasir’s mouth and laps at Nasir’s. He then pulls back and says, “Knowing how it arouses you so.”

“That it does. I am already starting to harden.”

Agron passionately kisses Nasir, enjoying the feeling of their mouths together and the warmth of their bodies pressing against one another. He helps himself to Nasir’s mouth some more before exploring his neck and his shoulders. He never tires of kissing and caressing Nasir. He always delights in the feel of his warm skin and his heady scent. Deftly, he repositions Nasir so they are spooning. From behind, Agron strokes Nasir’s front, his chest, his belly. He gently squeezes a nipple the way Nasir likes. One hand then reaches down and begins to stroke Nasir’s cock. Agron moves from languid stroking to, soon, more rigorous pumping.

“I love this,” Nasir breathes. “You touching me everywhere.”

“I would enter you, if you would allow it tonight,” Agron says huskily. He slows the movement of his hand.

“You know I would. You know how much I enjoy feeling full.”

“Then allow me the honor of filling you.”

Not long later, Agron is entering Nasir as they remain spooned. He thrusts slowly and even gently as his hands continue to touch every part of Nasir they can reach. Nasir reaches one hand back to touch Agron’s thigh.

“You feel so good,” Nasir whispers. “And you are so big.”

“Stop,” Agron groans. “You know that kind of talk makes me spill too fast.”

Nasir steps it up then, murmuring more endearments and shamelessly saying more words designed to inflame Agron. “I shall place a hand over your mouth if you continue,” Agron grunts. His hips are moving faster and faster, and he knows he is rapidly losing control. His body is doing as it wishes.

“Take hand and place it back upon my cock instead,” Nasir orders. “You are not the only one close to finishing!”

Later, the two men are cuddled together. They remain spooned, Agron’s arms around Nasir.

“I want to thank you,” Nasir murmurs. “Because I don’t know if I ever have truly thanked you before. For saving me from the mines.”

“I do not deserve gratitude. I purchased you for selfish reasons. Even if you were willing, it was wrong,” Agron states.

“No,” Nasir insists. “It was not wrong. You brought us both so much happiness. And had I gone to the mines, surely by now my life would have ended.”

“No one should have to experience such a fate.” Agron takes a breath. “I just wish we could retrieve your brother.”

A few weeks ago, the duo again received word on Farid, courtesy of another of Lugo’s trips to Sinuessa. Lugo delivered Nasir’s drawing and inquired with Ulpianus about purchasing Farid, but Ulpianus was not open to it. He added that Farid had “a ladylove” among another of his slaves, and that his lady was very close to her mother who also stood as one of his slaves. He said that the family would not want to be torn apart. Ulpianus had added, “And I am unwilling to sell all three slaves; in fact, I don’t wish to sell any of the three! Farid is happy here. Please tell his brother that. And I shall deliver these drawings to Farid.” Lugo had left it at that.

“I do wish I could see him again somehow,” Nasir says. “Even though at this point, we stand almost as strangers. I would love for him and I to be close as you and Duro stand. But perhaps it is not fated to be. I will still create drawings for him, as long as Barca’s man is willing to deliver them.”

“Perhaps our work with Spartacus will come to fruition. Perhaps we can change this rotten system. See a better future for Farid’s children, should he and his lady ever have any.”

“I hope so,” Nasir says. He reaches for another kiss. “We must have hope.”

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading! And you never know...perhaps someday an epilogue down the road.


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